


The Language of Flowers

by Xenobia



Series: Flowers of the Soul [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bullying, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 62,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobia/pseuds/Xenobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan Humphries is having difficulty adjusting to life in reaper academy, despite his high grades. He gets assigned to a mentor and as he trains with him, he learns to stick up for himself more. His growing feelings for Eric confuse him, however. Prequel to "Flowers for the Dead". Yaoi, fluff, angst</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TiBun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiBun/gifts).



> This story was written for my friend and RP partner StickieBun, who's been a little down lately. We've a shared love of the "Slingphries" pairing and I thought I'd try to cheer her up a bit. Unsurprisingly, this story will end up being a multi-chapter fic.  
> *Additional note: I get the impression that the reapers are much more advanced than mortals, both from various examples in the anime and the manga. It hasn't been alluded yet just HOW advanced they are, but it is my head canon that they live outside of time and their realm is closer to our modern day in terms of advancement; though the Victorian time period that the mortal world is set in does have some influence on their fashion and architecture.

**_Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and all characters therein belong to Yana Toboso.  I make no profit from the writing of this fanfiction, and it is strictly for entertainment purposes only._ **

* * *

 

They’d done it to him again. Someone in his training regiment had tampered with his alarm clock once more, in an effort to mess up his schedule. Alan woke up on his own without the alarm going off, because his inner clock was getting attuned to his training schedule. Unfortunately for him, by the time he _did_ wake up, he saw that he only had ten minutes to get ready before meeting his new instructor. He cursed and scrambled out of his dormitory bed, having no time to do more than give himself a quick spritz and run a brush through his hair before rushing off to the meeting hall.

All fledgling reapers that passed the grueling tests put down by Dispatch were assigned a mentor to guide them through the next stage. The ones with the most skill and highest grades would then be given one final exam before being promoted into the ranks of the soul collectors. It was the most honorable position any reaper could hope to achieve; to become a death god; a collector of souls. Not many could achieve the marks necessary to earn such a position. Those shooting for it that failed were assigned different jobs within the Shinigami society, and some did not even try. As a result, Dispatch was always short on soul collectors.

"Please don’t let me be late," panted the small brunet desperately as he raced through the hallways. His classmates were always doing things like this to him; finding ways to stuff him up put obstacles in his path. He still didn’t know what he’d done to deserve their contempt, but he’d been bullied almost since his first day in the academy.

He approached the elevator and he waved and hollered out for them to hold it. They laughed at him and shut the doors, leaving him skidding to a halt in dismay. “Why?” Demanded Alan Humphries helplessly.

He knew the answer, though. He applied himself harder than any of them, and he passed every test with perfect scores. They thought he was stuck up, but he really just wanted to become a good Dispatch agent. It was his dream, and they were trying to steal that from him simply because he wouldn’t slack off like some of them did. He tried to be nice to them but they disliked him anyway, because he declined goofing off and pulling pranks. He tried to be polite about it, but most of his classmates quickly decided he was a snob or a goody-goody, and they made him pay for it.

With a sigh, Alan ran for the staircase. He checked his watch as he was hurrying down the steps and he winced. He was going to be late.

He was paying so much attention to the time that he didn’t see the tall form he was closing in on up ahead of him, nor was he watching his footing. Alan cried out as he tripped, and he ran flat into a broad back as he went down.

* * *

 

"Stupid English," muttered Eric Slingby under his breath as he made his way down the stairs. "Assigning _me_ tae mentor a greenie…are they mad?”

He’d only been transferred from the Edinburgh branch recently, and so far he could barely stand the snotty, proper scunners. There were one or two that weren’t too bad, but overall he missed his home branch terribly. Today he’d meet his new trainee. He could already imagine the prissy little complaints he’d get, the entitled demands, the contempt. He wasn’t fond of the young ones in any case, but British? Aye, they tended to test him to his very core.

He was almost to the next flight of stairs when he was hit from behind without warning. The Scottish reaper grabbed hold of the railings as the collision threatened to knock him down the stairs, and he briefly felt the imprint of someone’s face against his back.

"Awright, ye fannybawbag," he snarled, turning around to face his assailant, "Wha’ ya think yer…doin?"

He found himself looking down at a slight-built dazed young reaper with a head of somewhat shaggy, collar-length brown hair. The boy looked up at him in confusion, blinking his green-gold eyes as if he’d run into a brick wall. His standard-issue oval glasses were lopsided and he was sprawled over the stairs. He had delicate, fair features that quickly blushed peach as he realized he’d just literally run into a senpai.

"I…I’m so sorry, sir," managed the student, flailing adorably as he tried to get his feet under him again. "I was late, and I didn’t see you!"

Eric quirked a brow. “Ya dinnae _see_ me?”

He’d never been accused of being un-noticeable before. His anger faded into faint amusement as he squatted before the fledgling and reached out to situate his glasses on his face for him. “Might wanna try runnin’ wi’ yer glasses straight an’ yer eyes open then, lad.”

The younger reaper thanked him shyly and bit his lip. “Again, I’m so sorry. I was looking at my watch.”

Unused to seeing humility from people in this place, Eric smirked at him. “Wha’s yer name?”

"Humphries, sir." The brunet took his offered hand and got up with his help, wincing as he rubbed his sore bottom. "A-Alan Humphries."

Eric frowned, finding the name familiar. “Humphries…”

He recognized it a moment later and his mouth curved again. “I’ll be damned…ye wouldn’t happen tae be rushing tae meet up wi’ Officer Slingby, would ya?”

Alan nodded. “And I’m going to be late, sir, so may I be excused?”

Eric laughed heartily. “No ye can’t…’cause I’m tha man yer lookin’ for.”

Alan blushed deeper. “Um, pardon?”

Eric grinned at him. “I’m Officer Slingby. I was jus’ on mah way tae th’ same place.”

"Oh no," moaned the brunet, putting his face in his gloved hands. "I…I just ran over my senpai…"

The Scotsman nearly laughed again. What a refreshing change from the usual bunch this boy was. “More like ya nearly knocked yerself ou’ on mah back. It’s a’right, kid. Now tha’ we’re acquainted more ‘r less, how ‘bout we skip the meeting hall an’ get on wi’ it?”

* * *

 

Still disoriented from running head-long into the man’s strong back, it took Alan a moment to catch his meaning. He wasn’t used to the thick accent, and he had a little trouble understanding all of his words. The man was tall, more powerfully built than most of the reapers he knew, and rather imposing. He had a head of thick blond hair that fell to his shoulders, braided into cornrows and dyed black on the right side, while the rest was brushed to the left to fall free. Handsome Gaelic features, a tuft of beard on the chin, blue-tinted glasses, tanned skin…he probably made the girls sigh.

He looked dangerous and frankly roguish, to Alan. He’d been frankly a little scared of him, until he cracked that smile and laughed. It was an open, carefree sound…almost reckless. Alan gave him a timid smile, hoping that he wouldn’t offend him and misunderstand his words.

"Get ‘on with it’, sir?"

Eric nodded his leonine head. “Tha preliminaries. We could go tae the meeting hall for a bite if yer really hungry, but I’d rather have a sit-down wi’ ye and figure out where yer at in training.”

"Oh. I see." He looked up at the taller reaper curiously. "That accent…are you from Scotland?"

Eric’s expression hardened a little, and he nodded. “Mm. Tha’ a problem for ya?”

"N-no sir," assured Alan hastily. "Not at all. It’s just…"

He smiled a little, blushing again with embarrassment. “…I’ve never heard the accent in person before. It’s…cool.”

Slingby’s crooked smile returned, but he snorted and shook his head. “Ye’d prolly be th’ only one ‘round here tae think so. How about it, Humphries? Want tae skip all tha social haver an’ take a walk?”

Alan considered the way his classmates treated him, and he decided he could save eating for later. He smiled at the taller man and nodded. “A walk, please.”

* * *

 

"So I looked o’er yer progress reports an’ grades sae far," said Officer Slingby as he and Alan walked the paths of the gardens surrounding the academy, "an’ I’m impressed wi’ yer academic scores."

Alan smiled shyly. “Thank you, sir.”

Eric stopped and put his hands in his pants pockets. “But yer physical scores suck.”

The brunet blinked, his pleasure quickly stolen away. “W-what?”

Eric nodded. “Yer combat technique, yer reflexes an’ yer balance are only average, kid.”

Alan bit his lip and lowered his gaze. “I know they could be better, but I—”

"Makin’ excuses fer yerself?"

He looked back up at the taller man, blinking. “No,” he denied. “I’m only trying to explain.”

"Then dinnae use tha words: ‘but’, ‘however’ or ‘because’," instructed Eric. He spotted a bench and he walked over it to sit down, patting the spot beside him. "Jus’ pull up a rock an’ tell me why ye think yer lacking in those areas. Dun’ think hard on it; jus’ be truthful an’ tell me what’s goin’ on."

Alan sighed and did as he was told. He started to try and blame it on how hard he focused on academics, but one glance at the Scotsman’s intense, blue-shaded eyes changed his mind. He felt like those eyes were piercing him, and Eric would know it the minute he spoke an untruth.

"I’m hesitant. I’m shy. I’m self-conscious and I’ve never been confrontational."

Eric smiled crookedly at him and clapped him lightly on the back. “There now, ya see? Tha’ wasnae as hard as it seemed. Never lie tae yerself, Alan. Ye can lie tae others all ya please, but when ye start lyin’ tae yerself there’s no end in sight. Ye’ll convince yerself ya can’t do things tha’ ye otherwise could, an ye’ll start putting tha blame fer yer own failings on everything else. Takes some practice, but if ya try tae always be honest wi’ yerself, ye’ll be able tae pinpoint yer own weaknesses an’ work on improving them. Ya might even avoid some mistakes tha’…what ‘r ye doing?”

"Taking notes," answered the fledgling as he scribbled down as much of Eric’s words as he could into his notepad.

"Huh…tha’s a first," muttered Eric. He shrugged. "Ah well, if it helps ye remember an’ focus, tha’s fine. Just dinnae think I’ll be halting our physical training sessions so ye can take down notes every time I show ya somethin’ new. It’s yer body tha’ needs training, kid, no’ yer mind."

Alan nodded in agreement. “I know. What you just said seems important, so I’m writing it down. I hope you don’t mind my doing that when you say wise things.”

"Wise?" Eric’s deep chuckle filled Alan’s ears pleasantly again. "Cannae say many folk have ever called me ‘wise’, but I’ll take it."

Alan smiled at him impulsively, pen hovering over the notepad for more words of wisdom. He liked this instructor’s candor…his lack of arrogance. True he was imposing, but he was also quite interesting, and he seemed to have a good sense of humor. “What else can you tell me?”

Eric looked faintly uncomfortable. “I’m no’ a sage, lad. Truth be told, o’ tha two of us, yer prolly tha smarter one by far. I’m jus’ sharing a piece of advice I learned meself o’er time; one I wish _my_ mentor would’ve shared wi’ me, back in th’ day. I had tae lean th’ hard way.”

He smirked at him. “Ya know, they assigned ye tae me ‘cause of where yer skills need help, and none o’ tha’ is in tha academic department. Tha’ ought tae tell ye how ‘wise’ I am.”

"But wisdom isn’t just intellect," reasoned Alan. "It can only come from experience, and you have that."

Eric’s brows lifted. “Ne’er thought of it tha’ way. Heh. Seems you’ve go’ a few things tae teach me, too.”

Alan smiled again, feeling a bit more relaxed. “Well then? Do you want to impart any other words of wisdom to me regarding my weak points?”

Eric reached into his blazer and pulled out a slim metal case. He opened it and retrieved a thin black cigarette from within, much to Alan’s surprise. The Scotsman stood up and moved away from him courteously before retrieving a lighter and cupping his hand over it. He lit the cigarette up and took a drag, blowing it out with the wind so that the smoke drifted away from Alan.

"Ne’er go on a reaping assignment hungover," he finally said as Alan gaped at him.

"You _smoke cigarettes_?”

Eric looked at him, his lazy gaze opaque. “Cigars, kid. Clove cigars, tae be exact. Aren’t ye gonna write down wha’ I jus’ told ya?” He winked at him.

Alan felt a curious little flutter inside in response to that wink, and he gulped. “Um…okay.” He adjusted his glasses and he looked down at the pad of paper. “Senpai smokes clove cigars,” he muttered aloud as he wrote it down.

"No’ about my smoking habit," laughed the Scotsman, "about goin’ on a job wi’ a hangover, ye silly thing."

Alan blushed, feeling foolish. “Oh, that.” He wrote it down. “I don’t drink, you know.”

Eric took another drag of his cigar. “Stay in this line of work long enough, and ye will eventually. Trust me on tha’.”

He looked at him again, the breeze stirring his wavy lion’s mane. “That’ll do fer today, Humphries. Yer dismissed.”

Confused by the abrupt dismissal, Alan stood up. “But…I thought you wanted to work on my problem areas with me?”

"No, today was fer evaluation. I wanted tae get a feel of ya before I agreed tae take ye on as mah apprentice."

"Oh." Alan felt nervous again, and he gave the taller reaper a small, hopeful smile. "And will you?" He liked him so far. He didn’t want to have to do this again.

"Tha’s why I said ‘fer today’, lad." Eric smirked in amusement at him. "Go enjoy tha day, think on wha’ I told ye about lyin’ tae yerself. Get plenty of rest ‘cause tomorrow, I’m gonna grill ye hard."

Alan winced a bit at that promise. “I…okay.” He gave a small bow. “Where shall I meet you tomorrow, Senpai?”

Eric looked around. “Here is good. Same place, same time.”

Alan nodded and left, not wanting to be rude by lingering after being dismissed. “Have a good day, sir!”

Eric watched him go with lazy eyes, and he huffed a little and smirked. “Might be able tae do somethin’ wi’ this one, after all.”

* * *

 

Officer Slingby wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to grill him hard. As soon as they met in the garden the next day, he took him to a secluded, open spot on the campus lawn. Alan barely had time to manifest his training scythe before Eric whipped out a saw and came at him. With a gasp, he fell to the ground and held his hands up, dropping his scythe and shutting his eyes tightly. The Scotsman’s shadow fell over him, and Alan peered up through shaking fingers to see him regarding him with a pensive expression on his handsome face. He looked to the fledgling like a lion trying to decide whether to go for the kill or toy with him.

Eric offered a hand to him. “Ye’ll never survive an encounter wi’ a demon if yer only move is tae fall on yer back and beg fer mercy, Humphries. Get up.”

Alan took the offered hand, and he couldn’t help but notice how much bigger than his own it was. He got to his feet and he brushed grass off his academy uniform, flushing with humiliation. “You didn’t give me a chance to get ready,” he accused.

"Hmph, sounds like an excuse tae my ears." Eric slipped his boot under the curved blade of Alan’s scythe and he deftly kicked it up from the grass, catching it easily by the handle. He flipped it and offered it handle-first to Alan. "First lesson, kid; always be on yer guard. _Always_. Jus’ ‘cause I’m yer instructor doesnae mean ye can slack off.”

Alan took the scythe and he tried to ready himself, but Eric again came at him and he launched a spinning kick that knocked it from the younger reaper’s hand again before he could even begin to defend himself.

"Pick it up," ordered Slingby.

Alan huffed in annoyance and went for the tool, only to find his way blocked by the flashing metal of Eric’s saw. “Wha—”

The older reaper offered no explanation. He swung at Alan and the boy was forced to duck or avoid decapitation—at least from his standpoint. “Are you insane?” he blurted, a few strands of hair drifting free in the breeze as Eric’s scythe cut off a few of them.

"Better move yer feet," suggested Eric, and he dove and rolled, coming up ahead of Alan as he tried to grab his scythe.

Alan gasped as the grave-cold blade pressed lightly against his throat, and he held his hands up in surrender. “W-what did I do, Senpai?”

Eric shrugged. “Nothin’. Tha’s yer problem.” He removed the scythe from Alan’s throat and he stepped back, resting the blade casually against his shoulder. “First lesson: Ne’er give yer opponent tha chance tae disarm ye or put ya in a corner.”

"But you’re more seasoned than I am!" Alan pointed out angrily, "and this is supposed to be an exercise! How can I show you what I can or can’t do if you just—"

"Sounds like ano’er excuse," interrupted Eric with a growl.

Alan shivered, and he honestly couldn’t understand his reaction to that rough sound. It intimidated him certainly, but their was something beyond a thrill of danger that confused him. “I…I’m sorry.”

"Dinnae be sorry," said the Scotsman, "be resourceful an’ pay attention. Now pick up the scythe again."

Alan looked at his training scythe dubiously, fully expecting another bum-kicking if he did as commanded. He could he get to it without this quick, fierce reaper blocking him and humiliating him again?

“‘S a’right, Alan,” assured Slingby in a gentler tone of voice. “Tha’ was jus’ an example. Ya need tae understand tha’ any real opponents ya meet on th’ field won’t have a care fer whether yer green or seasoned. First lesson o’ tha day. Always expect an ambush. Now pick it back up so I can teach ye some basic defensive moves.”

"Are you going to attack me again if I try?" pressed Alan.

Eric grinned at him. “If all I e’er do is attack ya, then ye won’t learn verra much, aye? Go ahead. I’ve made my point an’ now it’s time ta start trainin’ ye no’ tae be afraid o’ yer own scythe.”

"I’m not afraid of it," protested Alan as he collected it from the grass.

"Yer no’ comfortable wi’ it either," Eric pointed out. "Ya handle it gingerly, like a snake tha’ could turn an’ bite ya. A good Dispatch agent is always attuned tae his scythe—or hers, as tha case may be. It’s yer ally in all things…tha one thing in this world tha’ ye can trust no’ tae turn on ya. Wi’ enough practice, ye’ll start tae see it as an extension o’ yerself and when tha time is right, ye can have it modified tae suit yer personality."

Alan looked at the formidable saw that his instructor was wielding. “May I ask you something, Senpai?”

Eric nodded. “Sure, but tha clock’s tickin’. Make it fast.”

"What made you decide on a saw?"

Eric glanced at the blade, and he shrugged. “It’s rugged. Makes me feel like a lumberjack.” He grinned and winked at him. “Anythin’ else?”

"No…I was just curious." He took a deep breath and he wondered what form his own scythe might one day take, should he graduate and become a Dispatch agent. He readied himself as best he could and he gave his instructor a nod. "I’m ready."

* * *

 

It was brutal. After the first day of training, Alan could barely make it through a bath and to bed before he passed out. The next morning he was so terribly sore that he didn’t think he could spar at all, but Eric forced him to anyway. After a while his aching muscles loosened up, and he found himself reacting better, learning the two moves that Eric had been hammering into him from morning to afternoon. After a week passed, he had those down pat and he learned two more. Each night he fell into an exhausted coma, and he would have forgotten to eat entirely if his senpai didn’t drag him to the cafeteria after each lesson to be sure he got dinner.

Each day he trained with Eric, he learned a little bit more about him and vice-versa. Unfortunately, the cruelty of his classmates did not cease or lessen. They called him a “loser”, they drew insulting pictures of him, they tripped him in the hallways and they snickered behind their hands at him. It even got to the point where he woke up one morning to step on a piece of excrement placed at the foot of his bed by someone. Whether it was animal shit or reaper shit he did not know, but he had to clean it up amidst the snickers of others.

After _that_ incident, he couldn’t even pretend excitement during his training session with Officer Slingby. His feet were dragging, his heart was aching, and he simply had no enthusiasm for the day’s exercises. Two weeks had passed since he began his apprenticeship with Eric, and by now the Scotsman could tell that something wasn’t quite right with him. After a few passes, he called for a break and he lit up one of his cloves while Alan sat down on a rock and hung his head.

"A’right, are ye gonna tell me wha’s going on, or do I need tae stand here guessing all day?"

Alan looked up and he gave him a sickly smile. “I’m just tired, Senpai. I…stayed up too late…”

Eric gave him a hairy eyeball, and Alan sighed. “Okay. It’s my classmates. They don’t like me.”

The Scotsman snorted and tapped his smoke before taking another drag. “So? Most reapers here don’ like me, but tha’s their problem.”

"Bet they don’t pick on you though," muttered Alan."

Eric paused and tilted his head. “Pick on ya how?”

Alan shrugged. “Pranks…snickers…dirty pictures.”

The older reaper’s brows shot up. “Dirty pictures?”

Alan swallowed and nodded, reliving the latest incident with a sick feeling in his belly. “Stick figures, mostly. The last one was tacked onto the dormitory door. It…depicted me…doing things to myself…”

Eric took another long drag of his cigar. “Tha’ so? An’ ye dinnae bring this up tae academy authorities?”

Alan looked up at him again. “That would just make it worse, wouldn’t it? They’d know who tattled on them.”

Eric sighed. “Prolly. Sometimes in situations like this, ye’ve got tae take it intae yer own hands.”

"But how?" Alan queried, at the end of his rope. "They already hate me enough! I thought if I just put up with it and try to ignore it, they would eventually lose interest and move on…but they haven’t."

He looked down again. “This morning I stepped in shit.”

Eric didn’t understand his meaning at first. “It happens.”

"No, I mean…someone put a pile of it at the foot of my bed." He looked up at his mentor—who he’d come to admire already in the short time they’d been training together—and tears glistened in his eyes. "A deliberately placed pile of shit, Senpai. I don’t know if one of them just squatted and did it at the foot of my bed while I was passed out, or if they collected it from somewhere…but I was almost late for our lessons today because I had to clean it up."

The Scotsman’s expression darkened. “Tha’ so?” He put out his cigar and dropped it into a butt disposal container he kept on him, and he walked over to the rock Alan was sitting on. “How long has this been happenin’, Alan?”

The brunet shrugged, feeling so down he might as well be sinking into the earth. “A while. Since I graduated from junior academy and came here, I suppose. It just keeps getting worse. Maybe they’re right…maybe I really _am_ a loser.”

He suffered an abrupt smack on the back of his head for his confession, and Alan yelped and rubbed the spot—though it hadn’t been delivered hard enough to do more than startle him. “What was _that_ for?” he demanded, feeling like he might burst into tears. He trusted this man enough to confide in him and now he was getting _smacked_ for it?

"Dun’ ever let me hear ya say tha’ about yerself again, Humphries," growled Eric, squatting down before him. He gazed into the brunet’s tearful eyes and he cupped his chin insistently. "I dinnae work wi’ ‘losers’, an’ yer no’ one of ‘em. Yer jus’ an easy target fer shitebags tha’ resent ya fer advancing as fast as ye have, no more. Ye’ll graduate this academy. Most o’ _them_ won’t, an’ they know it.”

Alan swallowed and gazed at him timidly. “What would you do…Eric?” He’d never dared to speak the man’s given name before since their introduction, but now…right now he felt like more of a friend than an instructor.

"Well, fer starters I wouldnae whine abou’ it," answered the older man with a smirk. "An’ I’d find ways tae make it clear tae th’ cunts tha’ I’m not sae easy a mark as they think."

Alan gasped at the crude use of the “C” word. “M-Mr. Slingby!”

"Och, ya English an’ yer aversion tae honest terms," chuckled Eric. He looked him in the eye again, and he released Alan’s chin to stroke his hair a single time. "Wha’ I’m tryin’ tae say, Alan, is tha’ as long as ya keep standin’ still, they’ll keep usin’ ye as a punchin’ bag. It could eventually get violent."

Alan closed his eyes. “I…I know.”

"Then ye’ve gotta learn how tae defend yerself wi’out a scythe, since it’s forbidden fer students tae draw on each other," reasoned Eric. "No’ tha’ I think these eedjits would let th’ rules stand in their way if they think they can scare ya out of reportin’ them, but ya dinnae want tae be th’ first tae draw a scythe in a fight, believe me."

Eric stood up and he banished his scythe. “Which leads me tae a special lesson—one I’d planned tae save fer later. Put away the scythe, Alan. I’m about tae teach ye a few things about fist-fighting.”

* * *

 

-To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

 

Alan lay in his bunk reading a textbook on reaping technique, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. For over a week now, Eric had incorporated boxing and Judo into their usual daily lesson plan. His body was getting stronger, and his instincts had improved a lot. He began to see the pranks coming before they happened, and so far he’d managed to duck a water balloon thrown at his head, side-step a loogie someone tried to spit on his head from the grand staircase leading to the second floor and elevators, and hop over another pile of poop left by his bedside. The poop he’d calmly scooped up and placed at the foot of one of his dorm mate’s beds—the one he believed to be the initial instigator of all the pranks pulled against him. He left a note for him that said: “I think you dropped this.”

Eric was encouraging him to just confront the leader if he knew who it was, but that wasn’t Alan’s style. He didn’t want to start a fight; but he believed with his mentor’s help, he might just be able to _end_ one if Jeremy Scott got frustrated enough to get in his face.

Jeremy was a popular student, with shoulder-length auburn hair and attractive features. Just about everyone in his class was taller than Alan, but Jeremy was close to Eric’s height. That was actually a good thing, since Alan was used to practicing with a tall person. He wouldn’t have to adjust his techniques too much if it did come to a fight.

But Jeremy had to take the first swing, and that was Alan’s goal. He was never rude about it, and aside from depositing the turds meant for him at the foot of his bed, Alan never attempted to pay him or the other students back. He was determined not to sink to their level. Alan was a civilized reaper, and he didn’t intend to let his bullies change that. Not that he considered his senpai to be _un-civilized_ , but Eric was clearly a different sort of man than he was.

As he absently skimmed over the pages of his textbook, Alan’s thoughts kept going back to Eric Slingby. Sometimes during their training lessons, he’d pin Alan down to demonstrate what could happen if he failed to keep on his toes. It made the brunet feel funny when he did that. His strong body felt alarmingly good against his own, and when their eyes locked, his heart fluttered in his chest.

"I’m getting a crush on him," sighed Alan at last. He’d started to get out of the habit of lying to himself as Eric suggested, and there was no getting around the truth. Alan had never had a crush like this before. That the recipient of his first one happened to be male didn’t bother him; reapers did not have the hangups that mortals did about same-sex romance. What troubled him about it was the fact that the object of his crush was his instructor. He knew this sort of thing wasn’t uncommon. Lots of students developed crushes on their instructors, so he hoped it would eventually go away on its own.

He just wished he could stop getting hard-ons when he thought of the way Eric always left the top three buttons of his shirt undone to display a tantalizing glimpse of his clavicle and chest. He wished his eyes weren’t always drawn to the thin gold chain resting against said area from around his neck. He wished the man’s voice didn’t provoke little thrills in him, wished he didn’t find that accent so sensual. Other people seemed to have trouble understanding Eric at times, but Alan had gotten used to it and he rarely needed to ask for clarification on anything he said anymore.

Alan was so involved in his thoughts that he almost didn’t see the newest danger coming. He sensed a shadow falling over him just as Jeremy Scott started to throw something at him. Alan rolled out of bed just as the pile of shit was hurled directly where his face had been, and he heard gasps of surprise from the dorm room entry. He looked up at the disappointed face of his tormentor, and he saw the threatening look on his features when Jeremy met his gaze. He had a plastic bag over his hand in order to handle the excrement without soiling it, and he pulled the bag off and dropped it on the floor.

"Maybe I should rub your nose in it, loser," threatened the taller boy.

Alan calmly put his book down on the unsoiled part of his bed. “You can try.” His adrenaline was pumping as Jeremy closed in on him, trying to loom over him and intimidate him. Alan held his ground. “I’m not such an easy target anymore. That makes you mad, doesn’t it? You’re losing face with your followers. They’re starting to understand that you are nothing more than a cowardly bully.”

He couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth, but he couldn’t stop them. He was angry, but he refused to let that anger muddy his senses. This was it, he could feel it. This was the big test. He focused inwardly, recalling all of the vital areas he could strike to bring an opponent down. He wasn’t interested in beating Jeremy to a bloody pulp as Eric would have liked; he just wanted to subdue him in front of his fan club. Hopefully it would show them that Jeremy wasn’t as cool as they thought, and Alan would no longer put up with being pushed around.

"What did you just say to me?" demanded the taller reaper, getting in Alan’s face in a display of intimidation.

Alan didn’t budge. “I said that you are a cowardly bully,” obliged the brunet calmly. “Maybe you should see a nurse about your hearing.”

"Oh, that’s it for you, shit-head."

Alan saw the attack coming before the other reaper even made it, and he ducked beneath the swing aimed at him. He popped back up and he punched Jeremy twice; once with the right hook in the eye, and again with a left uppercut. He bobbed and danced as the other boy staggered and onlookers gasped in shock.

"I’ll get you!" Promised Jeremy, and he tried to tackle him.

Alan jumped aside and he kicked him in the rump for good measure, sending him crashing into the wall. Infuriated now, Jeremy righted himself. He glanced at his whispering peers, and he could clearly see he was losing ground with them. With a yell of anger, he came at Alan again. This time the brunet wasn’t positioned in a way that would allow him to dodge, so he let him come and he used Jeremy’s own velocity and weight against him. He ducked, caught him by the arm and around the waist, and he flipped him right onto his back with a crash. Someone hollered with glee, but Alan was too focused to pay it much mind.

"Get up, Jeremy," he invited. He could have easily kicked him in the groin if he wanted to, but he was still a gentleman. It wasn’t in his nature to fight dirty. He even stopped bobbing and dropped his fists to offer the other boy a hand up. "Let’s finish this and be done with it. It didn’t have to be this way, you know."

Angry and defeated, with one eye swelling shut and a bruise forming on his jaw, Jeremy declined Alan’s solicitous offer for help. Instead, he manifested his death scythe.

"Jeremy, what are you _doing_?” cried one of the only girls in this year’s class as the infuriated reaper got to his feet and made a wild swing at Alan with his scythe.

Still in full combat mindset, Alan hopped back and avoided having his guts spilled—along with his cinematic records. He operated on the fighting instinct that his mentor had taught him, and he kicked out and up. His foot connected solidly with Jeremy’s weapon wrist, numbing it and knocking the scythe out of his hand. It clattered to the floor and spun across the room. Guessing he would go for it again in his maddened state, Alan gave him no opening to do so. He nearly drew his own scythe but common sense stopped him from making this worse than it already was. Instead, he hooked a foot behind the taller reaper’s kneecap to make it buckle, and he shoved at his chest.

Jeremy went down, and Alan planted his shoe against his throat as he lay dazed, his head having knocked against the wooden floor.

"Give it up," Alan told him sternly. "You’re out of control."

Jeremy yielded simply because he had no other choice.

* * *

 

The next morning, Alan met up with Eric in their usual training spot, and he smiled at the handsome officer as he approached. Eric was smoking one of his cloves again. While Alan didn’t approve of smoking at all, he had to admit the smell of the cloves was rather pleasant…like incense. At least the man wasn’t smoking something that made him want to gag, and at least he tried to be courteous about it so that his smoke didn’t drift toward other people.

"Hi," greeted Alan as he approached. He joined Eric on the oblong rock that had become their favorite sitting spot, beneath the shade of a mighty oak.

Eric immediately waved away his smoke and put out his cigar. “Mornin’, Alan.”

"You don’t have to—" Alan started to say as the Scotsman extinguished his cigar, but it was too late.

Eric replaced the half-smoked product in his case with the rest of them, and he looked at Alan through the blue-tinted lenses of his glasses. “Get enough rest last night?”

Alan nodded, smiling. “For the first time in a long time.”

Eric tilted his leonine head, a teeny smile curving his lips sensually. “Yer lookin’ please wi’ yerself. Somethin’ happen?”

Alan chuckled. His mentor had learned to read him like a book. He nodded. “Yes. The student responsible for encouraging everyone to pick on me finally confronted me last night. He tried to throw poop at my head and—”

Eric’s eyes widened. “He did _wha’_?” He thundered.

Alan quickly grabbed his arm to keep him from storming off and relieving Jeremy Scott of his head. He placed a gloved hand against Eric’s broad chest, and for a moment their eyes locked.

_~Sweet Rhea, his heart is pounding so fast…why am I touching him like this?~_

"Eric, no," soothed Alan, even as he swallowed against the tide of feelings washing over him. "It’s okay! I took care of it. He completely missed, and then he got in my face to ‘teach me a lesson’ and…well, your training really helped."

Eric settled down, his eyes going lazy again behind the lenses of his glasses. “Oh?” He grinned. “Didja beat him tae a pulp, then?”

Alan shook his head and smiled. He couldn’t bring himself to take his palm off the older reaper’s chest. “No, but I _did_ give him a black eye and an ugly bruise on his jaw. I think I may have knocked a tooth loose, too. That enraged him and he drew his death scythe…oh, please, don’t look like that…it’s truly okay.”

Alan impulsively released Eric’s arm to stroke his thick, blond hair, and he again wondered why he was touching the man this way. “I disarmed him…right in front of his friends. He went too far with that, even for them. Someone called for a supervisor and Jeremy’s been removed from my dorm. I don’t know what they’ve decided yet, but he may get more than suspension over this.”

"Good," growled Eric, but his expression softened into a smile. He reached out to stroke Alan’s hair fondly. "I’m sae proud o’ ye, Humphries. Ya kept yer cool an’ did what needed tae be done."

Alan blushed and he stopped stroking his mentor’s hair like a lovesick fool. He reluctantly took his hand off his chest as well, and he threaded his fingers together over his lap. “Thank you,” he said softly, “for believing in me, and for giving me the confidence and courage to fight back.”

Eric stared at him, until the brunet had to lower his eyes or give in to the temptation to kiss him. “Ye had it in ya, Alan,” said the Scotsman softly. “All I did was help ya find tha’ spark I saw.”

Alan looked up, and he saw one of the academy board members crossing the lawn to them. He forgot what he was about to say in response to Eric’s soft comment. He stood up to greet Mr. Darson as he approached, and he gave a formal bow to him.

"Good morning, sir. How are you today?"

Darson gave him a nod, and he glanced at Eric as the officer stood up. “I should like a word alone with you for a moment, Humphries. Please come along with me.”

"Jus’ a minute," protested Eric. "He’s mah student, so I’d like tae hear wha’s goin’ on."

Mr. Darson looked the Scotsman over with veiled contempt. “I’m afraid I can’t understand your words, Officer Slingby.”

Alan saw his mentor’s fist clench, and he grabbed his wrist before he decided to find out if the man understood a knuckle sandwich. “Please sir,” he said to Darson, “My Senpai has the right to know what’s going on with me, according to academy rules.”

Darson looked at the young man and he harrumphed. “Very well, young man. I am pleased to inform you that Mr. Scott has been formally expelled from this institution. Drawing a scythe on another student or an instructor outside of training is a bannable offense, and your classmates backed up your account of the situation.”

Alan smiled and relaxed, giving a respectful nod. “Thank you, sir.”

"In the future," said the board member with another harrumph, "consider reporting such incidents first, rather than getting into brawls. Though the onus of responsibility lies with Mr. Scott for attacking you first and then drawing his scythe on you, there is a certain duty assigned to you as the protagonist to allow campus authorities to deal with such situations."

"Wha’ a load of—" Eric started, only to be nudged by his cautious student.

"Of course, sir," agreed Alan amicably. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Darson glanced at Eric again, then his gaze switched back to Alan. “Very well, then. Good day to you both.”

As he watched the immaculate, dark-haired Englishman walk off, Eric grumbled under his breath. “Pompous arsehole.”

Alan couldn’t help but smile, and he impulsively reached for Eric’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I guess you haven’t received a very good impression of my countrymen, since transferring here…but thank you for holding your temper, Senpai.”

Eric sighed and returned the pressure of his hand, glancing at him sidelong. “Up ‘till I met _ye_ , aye.”

Alan flushed with pleasure at the compliment. “Well, not _all_ of us are arrogant fops.”

Eric chuckled and released his hand, stepping away to light his half-smoked cigar up again. “An’ ye’ve proven tha’ tae me, sw—er, Alan.”

Wondering what he’d been on the verge of saying, Alan shyly offered a suggestion. “If it bothers you so much, maybe I can help. I could…teach you to tone it down and speak…well…more British.”

As expected, Eric’s expression darkened. Alan hastily explained. “Not because I think you should abandon your roots. I _like_ your accent, Senpai. I could listen to it all day…but some other people…” He sighed, feeling bad for even suggesting it.

Eric suddenly laughed, drawing Alan’s attention back to him. The brunet smiled hesitantly at his mirth. “I really wasn’t trying to offend you.”

The blond shook his shaggy head, still chuckling. “I think if it were any other Englishman, I might be offended.” He looked at Alan, still smiling. “But in yer case, I know ya truly mean well.”

"I probably shouldn’t have even suggested it," murmured Alan uncertainly.

"Actually," said Eric after a second’s thought, "it’s no’ such a bad idea. Fer tha’ sake of communicating wi’ these thick-headed…wull, tae make it easier, maybe I _should_ learn tae speak more like ‘em. I haven’t been here for all tha’ long. I’ll still be meself, even if I put on a fake accent tae make things easier ‘round here.”

Alan smiled. “Oh! Well yes…you’ll always still be _you_. I…I wouldn’t want you to disguise your accent around me at all. It may help you with others in this branch, though.”

Eric chuckled softly. “Then maybe we ought tae dedicate some extra time after our training sessions tae tha’.” He regarded the brunet thoughtfully and he stroked the tuft of beard on his chin. “But if we’re gonna do some language lessons, I’d like tae teach ye a bit of Gaelic.”

Alan perked up immediately at the prospect. “Really? Okay!”

Eric laughed then. “Ye really want tae learn tae speak Scottish?”

Alan nodded without hesitation. “I’ve never even heard it in person before. Can you say something for me?”

Eric considered it for a moment, and then he nodded. “A’right. _Chan eil aon chànan gu leòr_.”

Enchanted, Alan looked at him with wide eyes. “What did that mean?”

Eric smiled handsomely again. “One language is ne’er enough.”

Alan started to chuckle, and the older reaper did as well.

* * *

 

It was much more difficult to learn the tongue-twisting, slightly guttural language of the Celts than Alan expected. Eric made it flow so easily, but poor Alan often ended up choking on some words. His one consolation was that Eric in turn had difficulties mastering a British accent. When they weren’t sparring, they were training language. It never occurred to him how difficult it might be for a Scotsman to curb his accent, and it likewise never occurred to him how complex Eric’s native tongue was.

"No," he corrected his mentor one afternoon, after a week had passed. He shook his head. "You don’t say; ‘How d’yu doo’. You say: ‘how dooo youu doo.’"

Eric scratched his head and repeated it. “How dooo ya…I mean youuu…dooo.”

Alan couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t have to draw it out so much. I was just enunciating.”

Eric sighed and plucked a wildflower from the grass, twirling it between a thumb and a forefinger. “How do you do?” he asked the flower, “my name is Eric, and I’m an idiot.”

"You aren’t an idiot," protested Alan, grinning helplessly at his sarcasm.

"Oh, but I am," insisted the Scotsman, still directing his comment at the wildflower between his fingers. "I don’t snort tea up my nostrils and wiggle my pinky finger whilst doing so. I surely must be a moron."

Alan fell over onto the grass, unable to contain his laughter. Eric smiled at him with something like relief in his expression. “Glad ye find me sae bloody funny, Humphries. If it were anyone else, I might take offense.”

Alan sat back up and wiped moisture from his eyes, trying to contain his mirth as he shook his head. “We really must come off as stuck up to you.”

Eric grinned at him. “No’ all of ye.”

Alan smiled at that, blushing a little. “Can you teach me something in Gaelic now?”

Eric shrugged. “A’right. _Tha mi air an iuchair agam a chall_.”

Alan tilted his head and tried to repeat it, slowly. “Tha me hair and you chair am a chall.”

The Scotsman chuckled and shook his head. “No’ too bad, but ye need tae get th’ inflection right.” He repeated the sentence slowly to him, carefully enunciating each word.

Alan tried again, not quite butchering it but failing to roll his tongue properly. He sighed when Eric shook his head again. “How do you get those sounds to come out so easily? I feel like a dancer with two left feet.”

"Ya could do a lot worse," assured Eric. "Tha trick is tae learn how to roll yer tongue jus’ right when ye speak tha language."

He scooted closer and again spoke the sentence again. Alan leaned in close to watch how his mouth formed the words, and he found himself utterly fascinated. He tried to mimic the words once more, unconsciously leaning even closer to his mentor. Eric was also leaning closer, and soon their mouths were only inches apart.

"Gettin’ closer," murmured the Scotsman. "Try it one word at a time."

Alan swallowed and nodded as Eric began to speak the sentence again. “ _Tha…_

“ _Tha,_ " repeated Alan softly, his eyes going heavy lidded. The temperature seemed hotter to him, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the way the other man’s lips moved.

“ _Me…_ ”

That one was easy, and Alan repeated it readily. When they got to “ _iuchair_ ”, he saw Eric’s tongue briefly and his pulse quickened. He started to try and repeat it, but suddenly the older man’s mouth was pressed up against his, and the word got muffled and became a moan.

Sweat death…this was actually happening. Eric was _kissing_ him. Alan wasn’t sure what he’d done to encourage it, but the Scotsman’s lips were warm and seductive against his own, blowing away any and all doubts that the crush he had on him was just imaginary. Inexperienced in the ways of romance, Alan really didn’t know what to do with himself. He instinctively pushed his fingers through Eric’s thick golden hair and he parted his lips when he felt the other man’s tongue probing them. It went in and caressed his own, and he got on his knees to move closer.

It wasn’t enough; he needed more. Eric’s strong arms went around him and pulled him into his lap as if he could sense his frustration, and the next thing Alan knew, he was straddling the man. His heart pounded a rapid tempo as he ended up crotch to crotch with him, and Eric’s tongue lazily stroked and curled in his mouth. It was so sensual…so arousing. He’d never felt anything like it and when the Scotsman made a purring sound in his throat, he thought he might pass out.

"Eric," he breathed when the older reaper’s mouth left his to kiss his throat. This was more than a crush. He wasn’t sure just what it was yet, but it was far more powerful than he’d initially thought. Eric’s hands stroked his back and the facial hair on his chin tickled his skin pleasantly as his moist lips trailed kisses over his neck. He was getting hard, and he could feel the impressive bulge of Eric’s answering arousal straining against his through their clothing.

Abruptly, the Scotsman stopped, and he eased Alan off of his lap to stare at him with faint alarm in his green-gold eyes.

"Alan…I’m sae sorry," he gasped, breathing heavily. "I…tha’ wasnae s’posed tae happen. I jus’…yer so damned cute an’ I lost mah head."

The younger reaper swallowed, terribly disappointed that it was over. “No, please…you did nothing wrong. It…it was me. I think I’ve got a crush on you and I must have started it, somehow.”

"Ya dinnae start anythin’," insisted the Scotsman. "It was me. I’ve go’ no business comin’ on tae ye tha’ way. Yer mah student."

Alan shook his head. “I didn’t try to stop you. Please, it’s all right. I won’t report you or anything. I…I wanted it to happen.”

Eric sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “It cannae happen, Al. No’ while I’m yer instructor, anyhow.”

Alan bit his lip and nodded reluctantly, understanding Eric’s position. He could lose his officer status over something like this, if not his reaping badge altogether. It would be selfish of him to pursue this, no matter how much he might want to.

"I…understand."

The older reaper cupped his chin and made him meet his eyes again. “I’ll make a deal wi’ ya. After ye graduate from th’ academy, if ya still feel tha same, I’ll take ye out on a date tae celebrate. Once yer officially an agent o’ Dispatch, ya won’t be mah student any longer an’ ye’ll be fair game.”

“‘Fair game’?” Repeated Alan with a little smile. “You make me sound like prey.”

Eric chuckled. “An’ I’ll have ye in my sites.” He winked at him. “But ‘till then, yer safe from me.”

Alan lowered his gaze and blushed. “That was my first kiss, you know.”

"Really?" The Scotsman’s brows shot up. "Hard tae believe nobody’s e’er tried tae kiss those lips before."

"I didn’t say nobody’s ever tried," corrected Alan with another smile. "I just never let them follow through."

"Hmph, so I got lucky, eh?" Eric stood up with a grunt and he offered a hand to the smaller man. Alan took it and he pulled him to his feet. "So, what’d ye think of it, then?"

Alan glanced down at his protruding crotch, and his blush returned. “Isn’t it rather obvious?”

Eric laughed and put an arm around him for a brief hug.

* * *

 

Over the next few months, Alan slowly learned to speak simple phrases in Gaelic, and his combat skills continued to improve. He and Eric began to practice with fighting staffs as well once he explained the mental picture that had formed in his mind of the shape he wanted his scythe to be modified into, once he earned the right to do so. Thanks to his tutoring, Eric had learned how to mask his accent enough for the more thick-headed British reapers to understand him better—but he never tempered it around Alan. The slight-built student preferred his Scottish brogue, and he asked him to just speak naturally around him.

When the summertime came around, all students were given a week’s break from academy training, and Alan’s class was taken to the beach on the weekend to enjoy the surf, while the weather was warm enough to do so. Cabins were rented and officers assigned to each group. Eric was among said officers, as well as a Supervisor Spears and Officer Sutcliff. It was Alan’s first time to meet any of them, and he found Mr. Spears to be rather intimidating. Grell Sutcliff, on the other hand, was quite fun and quirky. The effeminate redhead was flamboyant, a bit overly dramatic and loud at times, but Alan liked him.

He was very nervous about going out in public in his swimmers, but he didn’t want to be the only student fully clothed. Everyone else was already enjoying the water or tossing beach balls back and forth. He went into a changing tent and he put on the pair of modest, long swim trunks he’d brought with him. They were emerald green in color, with blue swirled patterns on them. He peeked outside after putting his regular clothes away in his beach bag, and it was with some relief that he noticed that most of his classmates were too occupied to pay him much attention. 

Taking a deep breath, Alan stepped outside and he made his way over to the picnic table to have a bite to eat. Officer Sutcliff had laid out a spread of snacks, and he was chatting to William T. Spears—who looked as though he wished he were anywhere else in the world right now. Grell wore a red thong that didn’t leave much to the imagination, and William was dressed modestly in a pair of blue swimming trunks and a white singlet. Alan wished that he’d thought to do that himself. Distinctly self-conscious, he approached the table and he offered both of them a smile of greeting.

"Hello, sirs. Can I help with anything?"

William glanced up from the newspaper he was trying to read. “Good afternoon, Mr. Humphries. I believe everything is in order here, but your offer is appreciated. Perhaps you can assist with the cleanup when we retire to our cabins, later on.”

Alan inclined his head. “Of course, sir!” He looked around curiously, wondering where his mentor was at. He finally spotted him emerging from one of the changing tents and his jaw dropped. Eric was wearing a pair of short yellow swimming trunks…not as revealing as Grell’s, but not baggy or long like Alan and William’s. His tall, lightly bronzed body was even more toned than Alan had imagined, and he couldn’t tear his eyes off of him as he approached.  

One of his classmates came running up to the picnic table, dripping wet with saltwater. “You ought to dive in, Humphries,” he suggested as he grabbed a bowl and scooped up some fruit salad. “It’s bloody hot out here today and the water feels great!”

"Yes," said Alan absently, swallowing hard. His eyes caressed Eric Slingby’s toned pecs, tight abs and the golden treasure trail that started beneath his navel to disappear into his swimming trunks. "Hot."

He was blushing, and he quickly turned around and pretended great interest in the selection of snacks as Eric closed the distance. When the Scotsman spoke, it was with a tamer accent for the benefit of the others. “Hey Alan, you ought to put on some sunscreen. You’re so fair you’ll burn to a crisp if you stay out in this sun for too long.”

Alan busily began to spread some marmite over a slice of bread. “I…I will after I eat.”

"Don’t be such a mother hen, Slingby," yawned Grell. "I’m sure your apprentice won’t burst into flames the moment he steps out of the shade."

"You worry about your trainee and I’ll worry about mine," Eric grumbled.

"I don’t have one," Grell said with a smirk.

"We shall have to remedy that, before long," announced William. "This will be the last year you get by without mentoring someone, Grell Sutcliff. When next year’s new recruits come in, you shall choose one to take under your wing…though I dread to think of how the fledgling will turn out, with you as a mentor."

Grell huffed in annoyance and pointed an accusing, red-painted fingernail at William, brushing his long red ponytail back over his shoulder with the other hand. “You know, you’ve become even _less_ fun since getting promoted to supervisor, Will.”

Eric looked over Alan’s shoulder at what he was doing, and he smirked, his accent coming back as he spoke softly to him. “Want a little bread wi’ yer marmite?”

Alan looked down. He’d spread far too generous a serving of the brown paste over the bread, creating a small mountain of it without realizing it. “Oh…I just really love marmite,” he excused, and he took a bite. He made a face immediately and he was glad that he wasn’t facing his senpai for him to see it.

"Tch…tae each his own," muttered the Scotsman in distaste. "Well, I’m goin’ in fer a swim. Dun’ forget tae put on some sunscreen, aye?"

Alan nodded, wishing his cheeks would cool. “I’ll remember.”

He sighed with relief as Eric left his side. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. His attraction for the man kept steadily getting stronger as time passed, and he was more than ready to complete his training and graduate so that he could finally act on it without getting Eric in trouble. He fantasized about him day and night, and every little touch ignited fires in him, whether Slingby intended it or not. He wondered if Eric obsessed over him as much as he obsessed over Eric. He absently took another bite of his marmite bread as he watched the Scotsman’s broad, retreating back. He made a face again as the overpowering flavor of the spread bit him back, and he decided he’d need a drink to wash it down.

* * *

 

A cool dip was just what he needed. He’d enjoyed the sight of Alan’s fanny in the swimmers too much for his own good, and Eric stayed in the water for a good while, letting it calm his libido. It was more difficult than he thought to resist temptation. He fully intended to stick with his plan and he promised himself he would try not to get jealous if any of the other trainees started hitting on Alan, but every time he saw an interested eye look the brunet’s way, he felt a growl rising in his throat.

He dove beneath the water again and he came back up a couple of yards away, shaking his hair.

"Slingby-Senpai," called one of Alan’s classmates—a freckled girl that had apparently testified on Alan’s behalf over the confrontation he’d had earlier that year in the dorm. "Want to throw the beach ball with me?"

He looked over at the girl, who was wearing a pink and white striped one-piece. She wasn’t even looking at his face—her eyes were glued to his chest. He started to answer her, but another voice cut in before he could.

"We still have to do that thing, Senpai."

Eric turned to see Alan wading towards him, the water lapping at his smooth, fair chest…then his shoulders as he got deeper. “Remember?”

Eric scratched his head. No, he didn’t remember what in hoot he was talking about. “Tha ‘thing’?”

Alan eyeballed the girl in a not so friendly way. “Yeah. I think I need help with the sunblock you wanted me to wear. I can’t get my back.”

"Oh," he said, feeling stupid. In his confusion, he didn’t even bother trying to stifle his accent. "Tha’. Well, sorry lass, but I cannae toss th’ ball wi’ yeh just now. Maybe ano’er time."

She smiled and nodded, but he could see the disappointment in her expression. As he waded back to the shore with Alan, it finally occurred to him that the younger man had noticed the way his classmate was eye-humping him, and he started to laugh. His confusion over Alan’s sudden hostility towards a girl he had actually said he liked made more sense now.

"What’s so funny?" asked the brunet with a little smile as they walked out of the surf together.

"Ye are," answered Eric readily. "Got a wee bit jealous there, eh?"

Alan flushed. “I’ve got no right to be jealous.”

"Ya dinnae think so?" He leaned closer to him. "Jus’ cause we’ve got tae wait doesnae mean ya have no claim tae me, sweetheart."

Alan’s mouth fell open. “Um…it doesn’t?” His flush deepened at the term of endearment, and Eric wished he could just grab him and kiss him.

"No’ at all," assured the Scotsman. "An’ at least I know yer still interested, now."

Alan bit his lip and lowered his eyes, smiling shyly. “Very interested,” he admitted softly.

That made Eric ridiculously happy. Age wise, Alan was the equivalent of an early twenty-something, both in body and mind. The reaper academy was simply the final leg of training for all potential agents before the last test that would either get them into Dispatch or result in them being assigned a different career in the organization. It all depended on their grades and how they performed when the time came to conduct their first reaping. In a way, it was like college. Age had nothing to do with him putting off dating Humphries.

"Are you?" Alan pressed, keeping his voice low as they continued walking over the sand together. "Still interested, I mean."

Eric nodded. “More than ya know, Alan. More than ya know.”

* * *

 

-To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

"Humphries, wake up."

Alan jerked awake with a start, roused from his sleep by his mentor’s voice. The short summer break had ended two days ago and it was back to life as usual on campus. This, however, was _not_ so usual. He looked at the glowing face of his alarm clock and he almost groaned at the time.

"Three AM, Eric?" he mumbled sleepily, too dazed to address the man formally.

"Get dressed, splash some water on yer face an’ come wi’ me," instructed Slingby in his instructor’s voice.

It had been a while since Alan heard him use that tone with him. Even when they were training, he tended to speak to him more as a friend than an instructor. Something unusual was up, and he knew by the tone in Eric’s voice that he’d better not tarry. With a grunt, he sat up in his bed and he rubbed his eyes before reaching for the glasses on his bedside table.

"What’s going on?" he whispered, mindful of the other students sleeping in the dormitory.

"Jus’ get changed an’ ready," said the Scotsman. "I’ll explain on tha’ way."

"I’m not in trouble, am I?" Alan couldn’t think of anything he might have done to get marks against him, but the academy was strict, and it wasn’t very hard to accidentally cross a line.

"Nothin’ like tha’," assured Eric. He patted the younger man on the arm. "I’ll wait at our spot fer ya. Dinnae take too long."

He left the dorm room then, leaving Alan wondering what in Hades was going on.

* * *

 

Eric snubbed out his clove when he saw his apprentice coming in the moonlight. He sighed and he wondered if he was making the right call. Graduation wasn’t a set event; it depended on each individual trainee and how they performed. Some could remain at the academy for two years before either being given the nod for the final test or being dismissed as a lost cause. Others like Alan advanced so impressively and quickly that they were deemed ready for their exit exam within six months. Six was the minimal for training. After that, it was up to the board and the student’s mentor to decide when and if he or she was ready for finals.

"Hello," greeted Alan politely, looking a bit more awake. "I don’t want to be pushy or overstep myself, but can you please explain to me what we are doing, Senpai?"

Eric stuck his hands into his pockets and he looked up at the half-full moon, descending in the sky to make way for the coming dawn. “How long have ye been here, Alan?”

The brunet looked suddenly nervous. “Eight months…six with you as my mentor.”

"Mmm. No’ a bad stretch."

Alan bit his lip as Eric looked at him again. “Am…am I being dismissed from the academy?”

Eric smiled at him. “Dinnae be silly, Alan. Yer an A rankin’ student…one o’ tha most promising recruits they’ve had this year. Ya know tha’.”

Alan shrugged, worry still in his eyes. “Well, what else was I to think? You drag me out of bed at three in the morning and tell me to meet you on the lawn to talk…it isn’t normal.”

"No, it isn’t," agreed the officer. "But tha’ doesnae mean it’s a bad thing."

He looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, wondering if he’d pushed for this because Alan was truly ready, or because he was eager to dissolve the student/instructor bond so that he could act on his affections without scandal. It would be a selfish thing indeed for him to take the young man on such a dangerous assignment just because he was eager to strike up a romantic relationship with him.

"Then what is this about?" pressed Alan, clearly beginning to lose patience with the waiting.

Eric smiled crookedly at him. “Ya cannae guess? It’s time fer tha final evaluation, Humphries. Ye’ve met or exceeded all expectations o’ a fledgling. Time fer ya tae test yer wings an’ fly.”

Alan looked both exuberated and frightened, at once. “R-really? You think I’m ready?”

Eric nodded. “I do. But before we go, I need tae know tha’ _ye_ think ye’re ready, too. How ‘bout it, Alan? Can ye do wha’ ye’ve been training so hard fer?”

The brunet squared his slim shoulders and gave a single, determined nod, compressing his lips. “I’m ready, sir.”

Eric smiled again and clapped him on the shoulder. “Tha’s wha’ I like tae hear. Yer exit assignment is scheduled fer reapin’ on tha’ docks of London harbor. We’ve go’ a lil’ under an hour tae get in position. Best no’ wait tae th’ last minute an’ get there right away, so ye can jump on it before any demon gets tha chance tae intervene an’ try ta make a contract wi’ him.”

Alan hurried after him as the Scotsman formed a portal a few feet away and began to walk towards it. “What is the cause of death?”

Eric glanced at him sidelong and said nothing. One of the standards by which he would be judged was emotional fortitude, as well as technique and efficiency. He just hoped to the gods the gentle young reaper was up for the task. His generous nature was his one remaining weakness.

* * *

 

Alan understood why his mentor refused to tell him the details, now that he thought of it. He’d studied all the criteria for being a mentor someday himself, and one of the requirements was to pick a “hard” target for the student to reap. This was not done to be cruel; it was done to ensure that all Dispatch agents could handle any potential reaping job, no matter how gruesome or upsetting. He armored himself, trying to mentally prepare for the task ahead of him as he and Eric stepped into the mortal realm together. They were at the docks, and the bellow of a cargo ship’s horn made him jump.

"Easy, lad," soothed Eric. He took Alan by the arm and he guided him towards the furthest dock to the left, where the cargo ship was coming in to make port. It was late afternoon in the mortal world, and the harbor workers were busy transporting crates too and from outgoing and incoming ships, and taking inventory.

"Can I at least have the mark’s name?" asked Alan softly when the noise died down.

"Finnegan O’Reilly," answered the Scotsman after checking the death list he’d brought with him. "He’s comin’ in on tha’ cargo ship docking now. He’s go’ about twenty minutes tae live."

Alan nodded in understanding, and he began to scan the auras of all the mortals as the ship docked and the workers began to disembark. There. He could sense the aura of impending death clinging to the Irishman that came out and walked down the boarding plank. He was surprised by the man’s age. He didn’t appear to be much older than Alan, his curly brown hair covered by a brown cap. He said something to one of the other workers as he stepped onto the dock, and he began to direct the efforts of the men operating the pulley crane to lower a net filled with crates onto the docks to be transported to carts. Alan guessed they intended to put the cargo on a train when they left here with it.

As the scene unfolded, he began to understand what was probably going to happen. It was like premonition. The death aura grew stronger on the young Irishman as another netting of cargo was secured to the pulley system.

"It’s going to fall on him," whispered Alan as the crane groaned under the weight. Mr. O’Reilly was standing directly beneath the crates as they passed overhead.

Beside him, Eric remained silent, his green-gold eyes watching Alan’s face as the brunet surveyed the situation.

One of the lines began to snap, and there was a cracking sound of splintering wood. Alan started forward, instinctively wanting to yell out a warning for his mark to get out of the way. The Irishman was too busy talking to one of the other workers to sense the danger. Alan felt Eric’s hand close around his wrist and he looked up at him. Again, the Scotsman said nothing, but he gave a single, warning shake of his head. Instructors weren’t allowed to verbally instruct their apprentices during the first reaping, unless there posed an immediate danger to the fledgling’s life.

Alan swallowed and went still obediently, biting his lip as the crane bowed under the weight and another line snapped. The man talking to his mark saw the danger and yelled something in Italian, before running away. Finnegan looked up with wide eyes just as the net broke open and a ton of crates fell to the dock, landing right on top of him.

Eric silently nudged Alan and nodded at the cracked, broken mess and the pool of blood spreading out beneath them. Taking his cue, Alan made sure he was cloaked from mortal vision and he hurried to the mark, while shocked harbor workers yelled and rushed to try and free the victim from the wreckage. There efforts were in vain. Alan could sense the life ebbing from his mark steadily, and when he arrived at the scene, he rather wished he couldn’t see the severity of the damage.

Mr. O’Reilly was pinned beneath a crate that seemed to contain some sort of automobile parts, and a black piston had driven right through his abdominal cavity, impaling him to the deck. His legs were quite obviously broken badly—at least the left one that Alan could see sticking out from beneath the wreckage was. It was twisted all the way around. Blood bubbled on the Irishman’s lips and his green eyes were wide and dazed. Unlike the other mortals around him, he was able to see the approaching young reaper. Being so close to death made it possible for a mortal to see it coming for them.

Alan swallowed a lump of pity in his throat as he knelt beside the man, while the dockworkers rushed around trying to remove the crates and cargo to get him out. “I’m sorry,” offered the reaper as he drew his death scythe and prepared to make the first cut.

"Ma," coughed the young man with a whimper. "Da…I…tried."

Alan closed his eyes briefly, aching for him. He was frightened. He saw his end coming, and he wanted his parents. He was suffering though, and reapers existed for a purpose. “It will be over soon,” he promised, and then he drove the point of his curved scythe into the Irishman’s chest.

The glowing reels spilled out immediately, and Alan stood back up and hovered his scythe’s blade over them to begin collecting. He watched the events of the mark’s life unravel before him, taking mental notes as he’d been trained. He watched a birthday go by, watched the young man’s family working in the fields, watched them dine on a meager supper of cabbage and a single fish that Finnegan had caught from the river. They were poor, and like many families in Ireland right now, they were starving. The potato famine had ended but the population was still recovering, as was the economy.

Unaware that his mentor had come up behind him to observe his work, Alan began to silently weep for his mark. He loved his family. Loved his two sisters, his Ma and his Da. He’d taken up work on the cargo ship to England in an attempt to provide for them, intending to send his meager wages back to Ireland to help support them.

Death was a cruel, terrible thing. Finnegan O’Reilly would never again lift up his baby sister for a hug. He would never kiss his mother on the cheek or play “fisticuffs” with his father again. His future…his hopes…his dreams…all gone. It hurt to be party to that. It hurt to see it. Alan wanted to understand it better, wanted to make death seem a bit kinder. If he could just feel the mark’s suffering going away with the approach of death…

He started to reach out for the final reels, tempted to allow them to pass through him—a thing which all reapers were strictly cautioned not to do. He didn’t see Eric start to reach for him upon noticing what he’d begun to do. He hesitated, and he stopped himself before his free hand came into contact with the glowing reels. With a shuddering sigh, he gathered the final one into his scythe. The victim’s eyes went blank and staring as his heart faltered and stopped. It was finished. He’d conducted his first reaping.

Alan couldn’t prevent the sob that shook him. He tried…oh, he tried. Strong hands settled on his tense shoulders and rubbed them, and he impulsively covered one of them with his own, coming back to himself with difficulty.

"Come," murmured Eric gently. "We should be goin’, now."

* * *

 

Alan managed to compose himself enough to stop crying, by the time he and Eric returned to their realm. William T. Spears was waiting on the other side with a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other.

"Congratulations on your first successful mission, Alan Humphries," said the tall, immaculate brunet. "Have you any special notes to add to this death report?"

It never even occurred to Alan that the Dispatch supervisor was there too, watching the entire thing from a distance. He shook his head and spoke as evenly as possible. “No, Supervisor Spears. No special notes. It was…his time. There was nothing unusual about the accident.”

William nodded with satisfaction, nudged his glasses further up his nose with the end of his pen and scribbled something down. “Officer Slingby, what is your evaluation of your student’s performance in this matter?”

Eric toned down his accent when he answered. “He gathered the records quickly and efficiently. There was some slight hesitation, but nothing notable that suggests his future work as an agent could be compromised.”

 _~But I turned into a sobbing heap afterwards,~_ thought Alan as William marked down Eric’s report.

"Very good," said Mr. Spears calmly. He gave a nod to Alan. "You are permitted a week of rest, and then you shall be assigned living quarters of your own in a Dispatch residency until you have gathered enough earnings to seek out a residency of your own choosing, should you so wish. You will be under an evaluation period for the first month. At the end of this evaluation period, should you prove capable of this job, you shall be permitted to request custom glasses and a scythe modification."

He offered a gloved hand in congratulations, and Alan shook it, managing a little smile.

"Again, I offer congratulations to you, Mr. Humphries. Please turn in your collection to the proper authorities in the vaults and enjoy the rest of your week. Good day to you both."

He put his pen into his vest pocket, nodded and left them. The sun was just beginning its climb on the horizon, and Alan looked at the orange-yellow glow as it crested the tree lines.

"I’m sorry," he said, tears gathering in his eyes again, "for breaking down like that."

Eric put an arm around him comfortingly. “No need tae apologize fer tha’. Th’ only Dispatch officer I know of tha’ dinnae cry when he did his first reapin’ is Grell Sutcliff. It’s a normal thing.”

Alan looked up at him and sniffed. “Even for you?”

Eric nodded. “Aye, even fer me. I cried my first time, too. It’s a hard job an’ as ye know, verra few reapers ‘r cut out fer it.”

Alan nodded and wiped his eyes. “And it will get easier?”

The older Shinigami nodded. “Mm, with time. Ye’ll learn tae be more detached an’ start seeing wha’ ye do as a mercy.”

Alan took a shuddering breath. He certainly hoped Eric was right about that.

* * *

 

Alan couldn’t sleep that night. Every time he shut his eyes, his mind replayed the cinematic records of his reaping target again. He tossed and turned and eventually, he cried out. One of his dorm mates threw a pillow at him in irritation and told him to quiet down so they could sleep. Sighing and giving up, Alan got out of bed and he changed out of his pajamas and into some casual clothes. It wasn’t even midnight yet. He decided to call up Eric, just to hear his voice and draw strength from it.

After changing and putting on some shoes, he left the dorm room and went down the hall to the public study. As he understood it, he would be issued a mobile phone of his own once he officially began to work as an agent. Until then, he had to use the public phones provided in the study and each call was limited to five minutes before the phone would automatically cut off. Students were allowed five calls a day to different recipients, unless they had some emergency that required a longer chat. Should that occur, they must get permission from a board member for extended phone privileges.

He walked into the softly lit study and he went to one of the desks with a telephone on it. The phones were modeled after the current Victorian fashion in London, but the numbers were Shinigami characters. He picked up the phone and he dialed in his student ID number to activate it, then he dialed Eric’s cell phone number. For a moment he feared the Scotsman might not pick up, but after a few rings he heard Eric’s voice answer.

"Officer Slingby," he said, his voice raised over the sound of music. "An’ this better be good."

"Eric? It’s me, Alan."

Eric’s tone lightened immediately. “Oh, hey Alan. What’r ye doin’ up at this time of night? Ya were pretty exhausted after yer exit exam.”

Alan twirled the phone cord absently around his finger. “I couldn’t sleep. I just…want to talk to you for a little while, if it’s okay,”

"Jus’ a minute," said Eric, "let me get somewhere a little more quiet."

Alan waited, listening as the noise died away. “A’right, I’m outside now,” announced Eric. “Havin’ nightmares, are ya?”

"Yes," admitted the younger man. "I keep seeing the reels playing in my head when I try to sleep, and at one point I dreamed I was actually my mark. I…I relived some of his past and woke up hollering."

"Tha’ can happen," answered the Scotsman. "Sometimes I still get ‘em, too. It’s okay, Alan."

The brunet closed his eyes, wishing he were somewhere else. “I’m feeling stir crazy.”

"Hmm. Then why dun’ ya come out wi’ me fer a while? I was jus’ celebrating ye passing yer exam. Nae reason ya cannae join me."

"Oh, I’m not sure I want to be around a lot of people," said Alan regretfully.

"Then I’ll come by and pick ya up, an’ we can go tae my place. Ye can crash there fer th’ night. I’ve got a comfortable enough couch I can sleep on."     

"I can’t ask you to give up your bed," protested Alan, though he smiled at the prospect of spending time with him outside of training and grueling exams.

"It’s fine," Eric assured him. "Get out fer a while…away from tha noise of campus. Ye could…even stay here ‘till they assign ye tae a flat, if ya like."

Surprised by the offer, it took Alan a moment to respond. “Really? That’s very generous of you, Senpai.”

"I’m no’ yer ‘senpai’ anymore, remember?" chuckled Eric. "An’ if ya keep goin’ tha way ye have been, some day soon I willnae even outrank ye anymore."

Alan smiled. Maybe that was true, but he’d always look up to the man. “Sorry, it’s habit. Um, if you don’t mind coming to get me, I think I would like to come over to your place tonight. I could just pack a small bag to try it out for an evening and if you still want to keep your second offer tomorrow, I could come back and fetch the rest of my things?”

He really didn’t have many possessions yet. Most of them were books.

"Tha’ sounds like a fair plan tae me," answered the older reaper. "I can be there in ‘round twenty minutes, an’ I’ll pick ya up ou’side th’ lobby."

"Thank you," sighed Alan in relief. "That would be wonderful."

* * *

 

Alan was on the university steps waiting when the gold sports car pulled up from the road and drove around the big fountain in the center of the half-circle driveway. He stood up and he clutched his overnight bag as he walked down the steps.

"Eric?" he called out as he approached the car. The windows were tinted, so he couldn’t see the driver inside.

The passenger side window rolled down and a familiar, handsome face smiled at him from inside the sleek little vehicle. “Hop in,” said the Scotsman. He popped the trunk and nodded toward the back. “Toss yer bag in tha trunk, unless ya’d rather keep it on tha floorboard at yer feet.”

"The trunk would be fine," answered the brunet politely.

He set the bag down amidst a tool box and some automobile gear for breakdowns and emergencies. It was a two-seater car, small and no doubt capable of going very fast. Alan closed the trunk carefully, appreciating the obvious care Eric took of his vehicle and not wishing to accidentally leave any scratches. He got into the brown leather passenger seat and he secured his safety belt.

"Where do you live at, by the way?" he asked curiously as Eric shifted gears and began to pull back out onto the road.

"North side o’ reaper London," answered the Scotsman. "It’s sort of a busy part of town, but everythin’ ya could need is within three or four blocks."

"I see." Alan had only been into the big city a few times, since waking as a reaper and beginning his training. He ran his fingers over the dash of the little car, admiring the design of it inside and out. "What sort of car is this?"

"Jaguar," answered the Scotsman. "It’ll be a good while before they start getting manufactured in tha mortal realm. I got her right after I transferred to London Dispatch."

He smiled sidelong at him. “She’s a beaut, isn’t she?”

Alan nodded. “Yes, ‘she’ is. Why do so many people always use female pronouns when talking about their vehicles, though?”

Eric shrugged. “No’ all th’ time. Mah motorcycle’s a boy.”

"You have a motorcycle, too?"

"Aye. Had him shipped tae me from Scotland. I’ll show ya his balls when we get tae my place."

Alan coughed and giggled. “E-Eric!”

The blond winked at him. “Wha’? Jus’ wanted tae prove no’ all vehicles are girls.”

The brunet couldn’t contain his smile. “I very much doubt your motorcycle actually has balls.”

"Sure he does," insisted Eric. "They’re jus’ no’ shaped like ours, is all." He took a left at a larger intersection, taking the road that led to the highway.

"Want me tae put tha top down?"

Alan looked up at the roof, surprised. “It’s a convertible?” He might have guessed though, seeing as the top was the same brown color as the seats, rather than the gold hue of the rest of the car.

Eric nodded, and he pulled off to the side of the road for a moment to activate the automatic top. Alan’s lips parted with interest as the roof folded back into a dock behind them. “Cool! I’ve never been in a convertible before.”

"Ever been on a motorcycle?" Eric questioned as he rolled the windows down and checked his mirrors. He waited for a couple of cars to pass before pulling back onto the road.

Alan closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of the summer night air blowing through his hair. He shook his head. “No. I’ve only ever seen one or two of them, in fact.”

"I keep forgettin’ how sheltered fledglings are," chuckled the Scotsman. He shifted gears again before resting one arm on the driver’s side door. "Tha’ won’t last much longer, though. Maybe tomorrow after I get off work, I can take ya fer a ride on mine."

"Oh, I don’t know," said Alan hastily, intimidated by the thought.

"Ah, come on," pressed Eric. "Live a little…before ya start workin’ yer arse off as a lieutenant agent. This is tha last vacation ye’ll get fer a while, ya know."

"I know," agreed Alan, as prepared as he could be for his trial period as a new agent. He would probably be an errand boy for a while and he knew he’d be doing a lot of paperwork for the officers, until he proved himself worthy of joining their ranks. He looked at his companion’s profile and he managed a little smile. "Just…don’t drive too fast with me, okay? I don’t want to wet myself."

Eric laughed. “It’s a promise. I’m a careful driver when I’ve go’ a passenger wi’ me, sweetheart.”

Alan’s heart skipped a beat at that simple endearment. It made him feel special, to be referred to as “sweetheart” by the object of his infatuation. He folded his arms over the passenger side door and he rested his chin on them, letting the wind whip through his hair as they pulled onto the highway that would take them downtown.

"Thanks again for coming to get me, Eric," he called out. The breeze felt good, and he closed his eyes. He was so tired.

He felt a strong hand settle briefly on his knee and give it a squeeze. “Tha’s a’right, Alan. If I can help take yer mind off things fer a while, I’m happy to.”

The brunet smiled. Thank Rhea for this man.

* * *

 

Alan started to doze off just as they pulled into a parking garage to an apartment complex in the bustling metropolis. He shook himself out of it and he looked around curiously as Eric drove through the garage and pulled into a lot next to a covered motorcycle. He parked the car, put on the emergency brake and turned off the headlights.

"Wull, here we are," he announced. "Pull yer head in, Al. I’ve gotta put tha roof back up."

With a little yawn, Alan did as he was advised and he waited for the automatic roof to emerge and slide back over the top of the car. The windows went up, and he fumbled with his seatbelt as Eric got out. Sleep deprived as he was, it took him a moment to release the catch and Eric was already getting his bag out of the trunk when he stepped out and rubbed his eyes.

"What time is it?" Alan queried as his companion closed the trunk again and activated his car alarm.

Eric checked his brass watch. “Eleven past midnight. Here, have a look at tha chopper before we go in, aye?”

Alan nodded, mustering a little enthusiasm for the sake of Eric’s pride. “Sure!”

Eric set the bag down to ease the cover off of his bike, and Alan was certainly impressed. A shiny chopper of chrome, gold and black, it practically screamed “Eric Slingby”. In immaculate condition like his car, the motorcycle had a passenger seat and saddle bags were secured to the sides of it…suggesting that he enjoyed the occasional road tour when he had time to spare for it. There was a black helmet with gold trim propped between the handlebars, and a plainer black helmet resting on the back of the passenger seat.

Alan wondered how many people the Scotsman had taken on rides before, and he was chagrined to admit the thought of it made him a bit jealous. He couldn’t very well complain about the man driving other people around if he weren’t willing to be his passenger, himself. “I’d love to go on a ride tomorrow, Sen…I mean Eric.”

"Yeah?" Eric smiled at him, and he covered the bike up again. "Good. I think ye’ll like it."

He picked up Alan’s bag again and nodded towards the elevator further down the lot. “I’ve go’ a lot of paperwork tae catch up on now tha’ I’m goin’ back to mah routine work, but I can whittle some of it back down in tha’ home. I dinnae want tae stay late at th’ office if I can help it, while yer mah guest. Tha’ is, if ye decide tae stay fer tha rest o’ tha week.”

Alan smiled, determined not to sound too eager. “Let’s just play it by ear.”

"Fair ‘nuff." Eric shrugged.

* * *

 

Eric certainly had an interesting apartment. There was a family crest on the foyer wall that had Alan very curious, since reapers didn’t reproduce as humans did. It was the first thing he noticed upon stepping inside and he stared at it. Noticing the stare as he came in with the bag, Eric offered an explanation.

"I like tae think I must have had a family in my mortal life," said the Scotsman, laying a hand over the smaller reaper’s shoulder. "Jus’ a bit of self-indulgence, there. I had tha’ made back when I first started training. I s’pose I had th’ notion tha’ I might no’ get sae cauld an’ unfeeling towards humans, if I had a reminder tha’ I was once one of ‘em."

"I see," murmured Alan in understanding. "That’s very clever of you. Does it help?"

Eric shrugged. “No’ as much as it used tae, but I’ve at least retained enough compassion tae master reapin’ ‘em wi’out causin’ any pain. They go pretty fast fer me now.”

"Hm."

Alan looked around with interest. It wasn’t a particularly large apartment, but neither was it cramped. The walls were a simple, uniform cream color. The kitchen had an island bar with some stools for eating, and there was no dining table. It opened up into the living room, separated only by where the tiled floor ended and the beige carpet began. The living room was furnished with a matching set of a green and black plaid couch and a recliner, and the television was a modest sized wood-trimmed screen in the corner. A mahogany coffee table with lion’s heads carved into the corners sat in the center of the room, and there was a clutter of envelopes, a scented oil burner and a newspaper on top of it. There was a shallow fireplace against the wall separating the living room from the hallway and other rooms of the house, and the walls were sparsely decorated with a few photos of cars, a graduation diploma, some sort of flat drum and a wind-up clock.

"What’s that?" Alan pointed at the drum curiously.

"A bodhran," answered Eric. "Go’ it as a gift from mah instructor in Ireland when I graduated."

"Oh. Can you play it?"

Eric smirked. “No’ verra well, sorry. Here, I’ll give ya th’ five minute tour of tha place.”

Alan nodded in agreement. It was a two bedroom apartment, with the smaller room converted into a home office. Eric didn’t have a lot of stuff; mostly the basics and a few odds and ends he’d brought overseas with him. The bathroom was a bit cluttered but basically clean, and the master bedroom was the most impressive part of the tour.

Eric had a king-sized four-poster bed of solid oak, with Celtic knotwork etched into the wood. The posters were in the shape of spirals and crowning each one was a lion’s head. The bedding was a simple, masculine combo of a mocha comforter and pillow cases, with beige sheets beneath. A matching set of oaken bedside tables flanked the bed, and the third piece of the suite was a huge wardrobe against the wall. Alan thought the earth tones really suited the Scotsman.

"It looks very comfortable," he said with a nod at the bed. "Are you _sure_ you want me to sleep in it? I could take the couch.”

"I willnae have a guest sleepin’ on tha couch while I sleep in th’ bed," insisted Eric. "Scots have our hospitality rules too."

"I…didn’t mean to imply otherwise," apologized Alan with a little flush of embarrassment.

Eric smiled at him and set his bag on the floor next to the door. “Ye dinnae offend me. Come on, yer lookin’ sort of haggard an’ I’ve go’ jus’ tha thing tae make ya feel better.”

* * *

 

As he relaxed on the couch, Eric poured him a small glass of scotch. Alan looked at the glass dubiously as his companion came and sat down beside him with his own larger glass of the liquor. “This is straight alcohol?”

Eric took a sip of his own and nodded. “Best way tae have it. I keep it in tha freezer, so it’s good an’ cold. I could put a couple ice cubes innit fer ya though.”

Alan couldn’t see how that would help. He gingerly took a sip and he swore he felt hair grow on his eyeballs. He blinked away tears and coughed, pounding his chest. It was awful stuff.

"I…think I prefer the marmite," he gasped.

Eric laughed at him. “I knew ya were fibbin’ when ye said ya loved that stuff.”

"I _do_ love it,” excused Alan bashfully, recalling why he’d piled so much of it onto his bread that day at the beach. “I just put a bit too much on it.”

"Here, gimme yer glass," offered the Scotsman. "I can make a mixer fer ya tha’ might go down better."

Alan handed it over and he leaned forward to watch with interest as his host went into the kitchen to create the cocktail. Eric poured the drink into a metal tumbler and he mixed a blend of cherry liqueur, orange juice and sweet vermouth with it. He added some ice and shook it up, before pouring the mixture into another glass.

"Sorry ‘bout that, Alan," he said as he returned to the living room with the cocktail and handed it to him. "I’m sae used tae drinkin’ it straight, I forget some folk cannae handle it. This ought tae be more tae yer liking."

Now warier than before, Alan braced himself and took an experimental sip—more out of courtesy to his host than any real desire to. He blinked in surprise and rolled the beverage around in his mouth before swallowing.

"That’s actually very nice," he complimented, taking a bigger swallow. "Thank you."

Eric smiled and took another drink. “Feelin’ a lil’ better now?”

Alan nodded and sighed, relaxing against the couch. It really _was_ a comfortable piece of furniture. “Much. I’m so glad you came and got me.” He turned his head to look at the Scotsman and he took another sip of his cocktail. “Will you tell me about your first mark?”

It was hard for him to imagine anything making Eric cry.

"Ah, tha’." Eric frowned pensively, tapping his fingers on one knee.

"You don’t have to," Alan said hastily, "if it brings back bad memories."

Eric smirked without humor. “‘S a’right. Maybe sharin’ tha experience wi’ ya will help. Ya need tae unnerstand, Alan, they purposely choose a hard mark fer a hard lesson. It’s how they weed out tha weak candidates from th’ strong ones.”

Alan nodded. “I know.”

The Scotsman sighed and rubbed his forehead, before taking another drink. Surprised by his show of emotion, Alan sat up a little straighter, listening attentively as he began to recall his first time.

"Mine was a lass…no older than fourteen. She was beaten an’ raped repeatedly, then left fer dead. She suffered sae terribly…"

Alan felt the sting of tears and he swallowed. That was even _worse_ than his exit assignment. “That’s…that’s awful! I know they have to choose something difficult for us, but _that_?”

"Hmph." Eric took another swallow, and he swirled the amber liquid around in his glass, his eyes far away. "Believe it or no’, they go by personality. They assign somethin’ tha’ might be jus’ enough tae break ye, wi’out putting you in mortal danger. Too much could make a fledgling snap an’ forget why he’s there. Too little doesn’t test his mettle enough."

He looked at him and he sighed. “Yer test was based on yer nature, Alan. Mine was based on mah own. Every reaper’s different, aye? Takes a lot tae shake me, an tha’s why my assignment was sae brutal. Yer more compassionate though. Ye’ll probably be in tha ranks of the ‘soft collectors’, as we call ‘em. I’m more tha’ front lines. Th’ hardest cases usually go tae reapers like me, Sutcliff an’ Spears.”

Alan lowered his gaze. If that was the case, then he wasn’t likely to ever get partnered with Eric. “What did you do, when you had to reap her?”

Eric sighed again. “I didnae want tae reap her at all. Wanted tae give her a pass an’ go after tha filthy bastarts tha’ did it tae her…but I realized she’d ne’er have a quality of life after tha’, an’ she had nothin’ special tae contribute tae humanity. She was broken…better off dead.”

He looked into his eyes and he reached out to stroke Alan’s hair. “An’ yes, I cried. Like a babe.” He lowered his hand to caress his cheek. “Ye’ll always recall yer first. It’s always going tae be th’ one tha’ haunts ye, long after ye stop caring about yer other marks.”

Alan impulsively placed his hand over the larger one now stroking his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what else to say. It broke his heart just thinking about it, and he could see the evidence of how it still pained the older reaper in his eyes.

Eric gave him a forced little smile. “Fer wha’? We’ve all got tae go through it. I’m jus’ glad ye made it through yers.”

"I just…wish I could have comforted you the way you’re comforting me. You _do_ have compassion, Eric.”

The Scotsman leaned a little closer. “Only fer those who earn it, sweetheart.”

There it was again, that lilting endearment, spoken so sincerely. Alan leaned closer too, and it was like that day on the lawn when they’d kissed in the middle of their language lessons. It felt like they were two magnets, drawn to one another by a force neither of them could deny. Alan was already starting to catch a buzz and he parted his lips as the other reaper’s lips hovered close to his own. He wanted to feel them again, wanted to feel his warm tongue stroking inside of his mouth in that sensual, seductive way that made his groin throb and his blood sing.

"No’ now," murmured the Scotsman, his liquor and clove scented breath tickling Alan’s lips. "Too soon."

The brunet opened his eyes, hardly aware that he had closed them in anticipation of a kiss. “How can it be too soon?” He questioned, disappointed. “You said once I graduated you could…I mean we could…” He trailed off, frustrated and unable to form the words to argue his case.

Eric smiled and caressed his face again, before pulling back. “I said I could take ya on a date,” he corrected huskily. “An’ I want a clean slate. Our first real kiss comes with a date, Alan.”

The younger reaper blinked. “You don’t think that was a real kiss?”

He had no basis for comparison, but it sure as hell felt real to him.

Eric chuckled. “Aye, it was…but it happened at th’ wrong time. I couldnae kiss ye as I wanted tae, ‘cause it shouldn’t have happened tae begin wi’. Next time…wull…ye’ll see wha’ I mean.”

Alan groaned and took a hefty swallow of his drink. “You’re a tease, you know.”

"Jus’ thorough," countered Eric with a wink and a grin.

* * *

 

-To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

He was rudely jarred from sleep by a cry in the night. At first, Eric was too disoriented to know where it came from or why, but then he recognized the tormented voice yelling incoherently and he kicked his blanket aside. He rolled off the couch clumsily and his elbow struck the coffee table painfully, but he hardly paid attention to it in his concern for his guest. He staggered to his feet and charged for his bedroom, banging into the wall in the process.

"Alan?" he called, twisting the dimmer switch to turn the lamps on at a low setting. The young reaper was tossing and turning, lost in some terrible nightmare. Able to guess just what it was about, Eric went to him and hopped on the bed. "Alan, wake up," he urged, taking the smaller reaper’s slim, pajama-clad shoulders and shaking them gently.

Alan’s eyes popped open wide and he sat up with a gasp, his forehead colliding with the Scotsman’s chin in the process. Eric barked in pain but Alan didn’t even seem to notice.

"C-cold," managed the shivering brunet, hugging himself. "Death is so…cold…"

Eric put a comforting arm around the distraught reaper, rubbing his sore chin with his free hand. “Come ou’ of it, Alan. Yer still half-asleep. Look at me.”

Alan turned wide, dilated eyes in his direction, and he blinked. The misery faded from them to be replaced by confusion. “E-Eric? Where am I?”

"My place," reminded the older reaper softly. "Ya had a nightmare, is all. Yer safe."

Alan swallowed and he impulsively threw his arms around him, burying his face against his shoulder as he shivered. “Still cold,” he complained. “I’m…sorry f-for waking you.”

Eric stopped rubbing his chin to draw the blanket up further. Alan’s skin was chilled to the touch. “‘S a’right. Nothin’ tae apologize about. Shh, jus’ calm down an’ breath. Let it fade.”

Alan nodded convulsively, taking a hitching breath. “I was living it…his death.”

Without even thinking about it, Eric rocked him and covered him up to the shoulders, leaning back against the headboard to let him lie against him. “I know. It’ll fade after a while. We all go through it at first, tae some degree or ano’er.”

Alan closed his eyes and laid his head against Eric’s bare, broad chest, seeming to find the sound of his steady heartbeat comforting. “You don’t think I’m weak?”

Eric snorted and stroked the younger man’s soft, brown hair, feeling a curious warmth for him that went beyond mere affection. “Fer reacting as most reapers do on their first real assignment? O’ course not.”

Blended in with his affection was a protectiveness that Eric had never before felt for anyone, and he nuzzled Alan’s hair without even thinking about it. It smelled nice…like the wildflowers Alan so often liked to stop and admire. “Yer no’ weak, Alan. Maybe too compassionate an’ too sensitive at times, but ye’ve ne’er disappointed me as an instructor. Ye’ll get there some day. Trust me.”

Alan relaxed in his embrace. “Will you stay with me for a while? Just until I fall asleep again.”

Eric smiled. He found the feel of the smaller reaper’s body snuggled against his more than a bit pleasant. “I will, sweetheart…if it brings ya some comfort.”

"It does," assured Alan softly, tracing patterns over Eric’s chest with absent caresses of his fingers. "I’ll try not to yell again."

"Dinnae worry about tha’," encouraged Eric. "I dun’ mind." He kept stroking the brunet’s hair, sensing his utter exhaustion. Poor thing hadn’t had a good rest in over twenty-four hours now by his reckoning, and even _their_ kind needed sleep to recharge.

"I’ll stay here wi’ ya ‘till morning, Al," he whispered in promise as his former student relaxed further against him. "An’ I’ll be glad of it."

Gods help him, this wasn’t just an interest in getting down some hot young thing’s pants. He’d wondered at first, but now he was fairly sure he was starting to fall for Humphries.

* * *

 

Alan slept better for the rest of the night than he could ever recall having slept before. The next morning, he awoke with Eric’s alarm and he flushed with the realization that he practically lying on top of the bigger man, with his cheek against his broad chest. Eric didn’t stir right away, and Alan lifted his head to look at his sleeping features, naked of glasses and handsomely striking in repose. Alan brushed his fingertips over the older reaper’s goatee, and he hastily pulled them away when the alarm finally disturbed Eric’s rest enough for him to crack his eyes open and yawn.

"Ugh, back to the rat race," muttered the Scotsman. He reached out for his glasses, only to find they weren’t on the nightstand.

"I think you left your glasses in the living room," offered Alan helpfully. He self-consciously pulled away from him and he sat up, reaching for his own spectacles. He tried not to stare at Eric’s toned chest and the light dusting of golden hair on it. Rhea, the man was put together nicely.

Eric sat up and rubbed his face, yawning again. “Ah, right.” he blinked at the smaller man and smiled. “Did ya get enough rest? Ye don’t have tae get up wi’ me if ya want tae sleep in. Ye’ve still go’ six days tae relax before ya start at Dispatch.”

"I know, and I feel much better," assured Alan with a sleepy smile of his own. "Eric…thank you for staying with me last night." The man’s presence had allowed him to sleep through the rest of it, and he’d sorely needed that.

“‘S a’right, Alan,” answered the Scotsman. He stretched, inadvertently displaying taut pecs and abs to the younger man’s view. “If ya want,” he said around another yawn, “ye can come wi’ me and I’ll drop ya by th’ academy before I head in…or ye can stay here an’ when I get off work tonight, we can go by an’ pick up tha rest o’ yer things. Yer welcome tae stay through the week if ya want, like I said before.”

It really wasn’t a hard decision to make. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing, if I choose to stay?”

Eric smirked at him. “I wouldnae have offered, if ya were. When yer no’ havin’ nightmares, yer as quiet as a mouse. I’d like ye tae stay, Alan. I havenae had company fer a while, an’ I enjoy yers.”

Alan blushed and lowered his gaze, smiling softly. “Then I’ll stay. I hope I don’t wake you up with my screaming again, though.”

Eric shrugged. “Jus’ wait ‘till tha weekend. Th’ neighbors across the hall tend tae come in drunk in th’ wee hours o’ tha mornin’, an’ they wake me up wi’ their stereo. A couple o’ cries in th’ night are nothin’, compared tae tha’.”

"I would have pictured you as the sort that likes to go out on the weekends yourself," mused Alan.

"Heh…no’ as much as I used to." Eric leaned toward him and surprised him with a kiss on the cheek. The Scotsman seemed as surprised by his own action as Alan was. He cleared his throat and shrugged. "Too many responsibilities tae go out partyin’ every weekend, now."

"W-well, if I’m going to be your guest for the week, I may as well do something useful," Alan said hastily, squirming out of the bed. "I’ll make you up some breakfast while you get ready for work."

"Yer mah guest, Al," protested Eric. "Ya dinnae have tae—"

"But I _want_ to,” insisted the brunet as he went for the door. “Please, allow me to do at least this much for you.”

Eric chuckled and smiled. “Well, if ya insist…but I havnae gone grocery shoppin’ fer o’er a month, ‘cept fer tha basics. I spend more time at work than I do at home, so I eat most of my meals out.”

"Do you have eggs? Bread? Butter?"

Eric shrugged. “Aye, I’ve at least go’ tha’.”

Alan smiled. “Then it’s easy. I’ll make up some eggs and toast. How do you like them?”

"Sunny-side up fer tha eggs," answered Eric, getting out of the bed and stretching again. "Lightly browned fer tha toast."

Alan’s gaze traveled the Scotsman’s body while he had his eyes shut. The mocha colored pajama bottoms complimented his tawny coloring, and another blush suffused the brunet’s cheeks. He turned away hastily as Eric finished stretching.

"I think I can manage that," he called over his shoulder. "Go ahead and get ready and I should have it finished and plated up for you by the time you’re done."

* * *

 

Eric watched him go, and once he’d vanished around the corner through the hallway, the Scotsman pinched the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger and he shook his head. “Why’d ye have tae go an’ kiss his cheek like tha’?” he mumbled to himself. It was like he couldn’t keep his hands and lips off the younger reaper, and he was _trying_ to give Alan a little more time to decide how he felt about him before making further advances on him.

For a moment, he contemplated why he was being so honorable with this particular romantic interest. He’d gotten down plenty of pants before, and he’d never held back so much from acting on his desires and making a conquest. Alan was more than a “conquest” to him, though. For starters he was a virgin; and while Eric had bedded a couple of virgins before in his lifetime, he didn’t have the benefit of a friendship with either of them to hold him back.

"Hmph…me wi’ compunctions," he sighed. "What’re ye doin’ tae me, Alan?"

He could be a gentleman as part of his seduction routine, but this was the first time he’d ever done so sincerely…and he hadn’t so much as glanced at anyone else with interest since that day they shared the kiss. He again realized he was in real trouble here, and he decided to take his shower cold to cool off his amorous feelings.

* * *

 

"Oh, damn," cursed Alan as he accidentally dropped a piece of shell into the egg he’d just poured onto the hot pan. He hastily dug it out with the spatula and he breathed a little easier. The sound of the shower going in the bathroom was making his imagination spin to places he really didn’t want it going to. He kept mentally picturing Eric in there naked, with water droplets rolling down his tanned body. It was so much harder to ignore such a fantasy when he’d seen most of his body already during the vacation to the beach.

"Focus, Alan," he mumbled, cracking two more eggs into the pan to go with the first two. Eric was being a gentleman, and all _he_ could think of was licking the cascading water from that gorgeous body of his. He sighed and bit his lip. He wasn’t ignorant of the ways of lust…not completely, anyway. He’d fantasized about certain Shinigami actors and singers before, but those were _safe_ fantasies…completely harmless because he knew he’d probably never meet them, let alone date them.

But now he had a sexy blond hunk right there in the same apartment with him, who had expressed a romantic interest in him. Maybe it was time for Alan to release some of his pent-up sexual urges…once Eric went off to work, of course. He felt bad about even considering doing that in the man’s bathroom, but if he did it in the shower he wouldn’t leave a mess and he feared that if he didn’t do it, he might get too frustrated and do something stupid. He didn’t want to be too forward or pushy; especially since he knew next to nothing about seducing anyone.

Half a year. He’d known and trained under Eric for half a year, now. That was a decent enough amount of time to get to know someone before falling for them, wasn’t it? Some people weren’t even associates for that long before they started dating, and plenty of humans didn’t even meet their future husbands or wives until they were ready to marry them. Arranged marriages weren’t quite the same thing as casual dating, but if others could jump into a romantic relationship before they’d known someone longer than a month, why shouldn’t he go for it with Eric?

_~Because he’s older than you. Because he was your instructor. Because he has so much more experience than you do and he’s way out of your league.~_

The last bit sounded like something his classmates might have told him, had he ever asked them for advice. He knew he came off as a geeky bookworm, no matter how many people told him he was cute. The only opinion that mattered to him on that front was Eric’s, though. As long as the Scotsman found him attractive, he supposed it didn’t matter what others thought.

He put the bread into the toaster when the eggs were halfway finished, so that it would come out close to the time when they were cooked. The shower stopped and he heard the faint sound of Eric rummaging around in the bathroom, before the sink began to run. The next sound he heard was what he assumed to be a razor tapping against the sink. Presuming the man was tidying up his goatee, Alan could easily picture him standing before the mirror with lather on his face. Even _that_ mental picture was attractive to him. Eric was so…manly. Alan couldn’t even grow a sparse mustache. His face was as smooth as a female’s and he’d never had to so much as pick up a razor before.

After a few more minutes, the eggs were ready to be plated up and the toast popped up, too. Eric emerged from the bathroom dressed for work, just as Alan was buttering the toast. He smiled at the brunet and Alan blinked with surprise.

"Your goatee is gone," said the brunet candidly. Not that Eric wasn’t just as handsome without it, but this was the first time he’d seen him clean-shaven. He had a nicely shaped chin and jawline. The lack of facial hair made him seem a bit younger.

"Yeah," agreed the Scotsman, scratching his freshly shaved jaw with a slight grimace. "First day back tae my usual job. I figured I’d best go in clean-shaven tae avoid any lectures. It’ll grow back in a few days…trust me."

He approached and had a look at the plates of food. “Looks an’ smells great,” he complimented. “Sorry tha fridge is sae sparsely stocked. I’ll leave ya some money tae order a pizza or somethin’ fer lunch, ‘till we can hit the grocery store.”

"Oh, you don’t need to do that," protested Alan with a blush. "You’ve already done enough for me, Eric. I can manage until you come back." He could smell the man’s aftershave and he found the musky aroma more than a little appealing.

"On wha’?" asked the older reaper with a smirk. "Bread an’ jam? Tha’ reminds me…dinnae eat tha jam in there. It’s go’ tae be at least three months past its expiration date. Shoulda tossed it ou’ long ago."

He took a seat at the little glass dining table as Alan poured the juice—which thankfully was only a few days old. “‘Sides, ye’ve made breakfast fer me. Least I can do is treat ye tae lunch. There’s a good deli ‘round tha block, if ya don’t feel like pizza.”

"I might consider that, then." Alan brought the juice over first, and then he got his own plate of breakfast and sat down with him. "Do they make you go clean shaven all the time?"

Eric shrugged. “It’s no’ an official rule or anythin’. I jus’ figure they’re less likely tae give me a hard time if I’m clean shaven. I already break uniform code leavin’ tha top three buttons of mah shirt open.” He loosened his tie a bit more and he sprinkled some salt and pepper over his eggs. “Feels like I’m choking if I wear it regulation tight.”

Alan’s eyes were drawn to the appealing V of Eric’s collarbone, and the gold chain that rested against it. “Yes, it would be a shame if they made you button it all the way up.” He quickly busied himself with cutting into his eggs and he shrugged. “I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable. I would think that could be distracting.”

"Mah thoughts exactly," agreed Eric, thankfully not seeming to notice the ulterior reason Alan thought it would be a shame. He took a bite of his toast and washed it down with his drink. "Ya prefer me wi’ tha beard, do ya?"

Alan shrugged, smiling shyly. “I’m just used to seeing you with it.” He studied the older reaper’s features and he blurted the next thought carelessly. “You have a nice chin, though. You look just as good without it as you do with it.” He winced and he wished he could have come up with something a bit lest amorous than that.

Eric smiled. “Ya think so? Wow, ya blush bright.” He chuckled and cut another bite of egg away. “Yer really no’ used tae flirting, are ya?”

"I…wasn’t trying to flirt," insisted the brunet. "I was just speaking my mind."

Eric sighed theatrically. “No’ flirting, huh? Too bad fer me, then.” He forked up the egg and put it into his mouth, still grinning as he chewed and swallowed. “I’m glad ya like mah face, though.”

Alan kept his eyes on his food, afraid he’d just say something else to embarrass himself if he kept looking at the handsome rogue. “Would you like me to clean anything while you’re out?”

Eric chuckled and forked up more egg. “No’ unless ya find somethin’ so dirty it bothers ya. All ya need tae do this week is enjoy yerself, Alan. I appreciate tha thought, but I’d be a poor host if I put ye tae work while yer on a vacation.”

"I don’t mind helping out," assured Alan with a smile. "After all, I’ll be dirtying dishes and using the bathroom too. Why shouldn’t I clean up after myself and help with laundry?"

"Stubborn," snorted Eric. He finished off his toast and focused on the remaining egg. "Well, if it’ll make ya happy, I s’pose I shouldnae argue wi’ ya."

Alan nodded. “That’s right.”

Eric finished his breakfast before Alan, and after taking his dishes to the sink, he dug his wallet out and fished out a couple of Shinigami currency notes. “I’ll set this on tha counter fer ya,” he informed his guest. “That ought tae be enough fer a good lunch and a movie, if ya feel like goin tae th’ theater on Knight street or picking up a rental from tha store across from tha deli.”

Alan almost protested that it was too much, but he didn’t want to offend him by rejecting his gracious offer, so he nodded instead. “Thank you. What sort of movies do _you_ like, Eric? I could try to rent one for us to watch together after we get the rest of my things tonight.”

Eric checked his watch and put his gloves on. When he spoke again, the Scottish accent was all but gone. “I’m easy. Action’s my favorite, though…and horror. I don’t suppose you like thrillers, eh?”

Alan shook his head. “Not so much, no.”

"Didn’t think so." Eric gave him one of those charming smiles that made his heart skip a beat, and he shrugged. "Just pick out whatever you think looks good. I should be done by six and I’ll call you when I’m on my way home, all right?"

"Okay," agreed the brunet. "Have a good day, Eric."

The Scotsman winked at him and walked into the foyer. “Oh, there’s a spare set of keys in the middle desk drawer in my office,” he called. “Just be sure you lock up when you go out.”

"I will," promised Alan, flushing again in response to that wink. Thank goodness Eric was out of sight and couldn’t see the way his pajama pants were beginning to tent. He sighed when he heard the front door open and shut, and he glanced down with annoyance. "But before I do anything, I’m having a shower."

_~And taking care of my little problem, while I’m at it.~_

Maybe if he appeased his body’s lust he could make it through the rest of the day without getting another hard-on.

* * *

 

He’d forgotten how brazenly the ladies in General Affairs liked to flirt. Eric usually flirted right back with them, and he’d slept with a couple of male Dispatch agents the year after he transferred to this division. Now he had no interest in flirting with or dating any of them. He greeted them with a smile and he did not encourage their flirtation as he clocked in. He left that floor in a bit of a hurry, and he wondered what Alan would think when he saw the attention he got from them. It was his own fault for playing the flirting game with the ladies, he supposed. Now he had no idea how to discourage it, short of maybe laying a big wet one on Alan right in front of them.

Eric smirked as he got into the elevator and selected the Dispatch office floor. That would get tongues a-wagging for sure; him kissing his former apprentice in front of everyone on Alan’s first day as an official agent. He wouldn’t do that to him, though. As much as Alan might reciprocate his attraction, he was a conservative lad and he probably wouldn’t react well to being bent over backwards and frenched in front of everyone.

"Get yer mind ou’ of tha gutter an’ on tha job, Eric," he scolded himself as the mental picture in his head made his mind wander to other things he’d like to do to the small, charming reaper.

The elevator paused at the third floor, and the doors opened to admit William T. Spears. The elegant, stoic brunet got in with Eric and he gave him a polite nod of greeting. “Good morning, Mr. Slingby. I see you are on time for a change.”

Eric smirked. “‘Morning, boss. First day back to my normal work routine and all…I thought I should try not to be late.”

"A wise decision," agreed William as the doors closed. "I see you’ve almost completely tamed your accent, as well. Do you truly find that necessary?"

Eric shrugged. “It makes things easier around here. Some people don’t understand what I’m saying if I speak with my normal accent.”

"Hmm, or they pretend not to," said William with a sidelong look. "But if it makes your job more comfortable, I suppose there is no harm in it. You know, that tie is not regulation."

Eric sighed and did up the top three buttons of his shirt, before tightening the tie in question. “Better?”

"Much." A very subtle smirk adorned William’s lips. "You may loosen it again once you are out on the field, Slingby. While you are in the office, however, you must maintain a neat, orderly appearance. We cannot give the impression that our division is manned with slobs."

The Scotsman kept his displeasure to himself. “Fair enough.” At least the man wasn’t telling him he had to keep it tight throughout the entire day.

They made it to their floor and parted ways in the hall, with Eric heading to his small office and William going to his executive one. He passed Grell on the way and he noted that even though the redhead had begun to wear different colors than the standard uniform, he kept his vest, shirt and red and white striped bow-tie neatly ironed and buttoned up.

"Well hello there, handsome," greeted the redhead with a sharp smile when he saw him. "Oh my, your charming little beard is gone! Did Will make you shave it?"

Eric shook his head and paused at Grell’s office door to chat with him. “No, that was my idea. I thought maybe if I showed up clean shaven he’d overlook my loose tie and unbuttoned shirt.”

Grell sighed, his gaze going to the blond’s throat. “You should know better. Will can spot a crease from a mile away.” He waved a hand dismissively and placed it on his hip in a feminine gesture. “Go ahead and unbutton it, darling. I won’t tell. Will is going to be stuck in his office making love to his paperwork for the rest of the day anyhow, so he’s not likely to see you again.”

"Thanks, all the same. I’d better get to my office and get started if I’m going to catch up. See you later, Grell."

The redhead sighed dramatically. “Fine, deprive a lady of a treat to the eyes,” he sniffed. “Until next time, you hunky thing, you.”

Eric huffed a laugh in spite of himself. There was nobody else quite like Grell Sutcliff on staff here or anywhere else he’d worked before. “Sorry, but I’ve got another pair of eyes I’m looking to treat from now on,” he said evasively, winking.

"Your cute little friend who just graduated?" guessed the redhead slyly. When Eric stopped again to look at him, he smirked. "Yes, I’ve noticed the chemistry between the two of you. The sexual tension is thick enough to cut with a knife."

Eric blinked at him, and he was on the verge of trying to deny it, but he shrugged. There was no policy against dating coworkers, so he had no reason to hide it. “You’re good,” he complimented.

"I like to people watch," grinned the redhead. "Well, at least you had the sense to wait until he was no longer your student to begin romancing him, hmm? That could have proven truly disastrous, had you acted on it earlier."

"I like to think I’ve got at least half a brain," replied the Scotsman with a smirk of his own. "See you around lunch time."

Grell waved at him, and he didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t staring at Eric’s backside as the taller man walked away. “If little Humphries doesn’t jump on that,” he murmured to a female secretary as she came by with some documents for him, “he’s depriving himself of a treat.”

"Mr. Sutcliff," she giggled, swatting him lightly with her folder. "You’re so scandalous!"

He grinned at her, unapologetic for his bold words and gaze. “I’m simply a lady who appreciates a man who’s put together nicely, darling. You should try it, sometime.”

* * *

 

Alan found the deli Eric had told him about and he had a sandwich and soup there for lunch, before visiting the movie rental place across the street. He found a selection that he thought he and Eric could both enjoy; an action/comedy about a Dispatch agent and a rookie. He found it a little ironic, and he smiled as he paid for it and returned to the apartment. He busied himself with a book from Eric’s collection for the rest of the day, his mind finally able to focus on something besides his first reaping assignment and the man he admired and wanted. The shower had helped clear his mind and relieve some of his frustration, but he still needed to catch up on missed sleep.

He hadn’t realized how tired he still was until three o’clock rolled around and he fell asleep in the recliner, with the book about different species of trees resting in his lap.

* * *

 

He was running a little late, and Alan didn’t answer the phone when he tried to call and let him know he’d be home soon. Rather than worry, Eric just assumed he’d gone out or was in the bathroom. He made it home and he called out to his guest as he unlocked the door and walked in.

"Alan, are ya in here? I’m back."

As he walked into the living room, he saw why the young man hadn’t answered the telephone. He smiled and walked over to the recliner, where Alan had fallen asleep with his feet propped up and a book in his limp hands. Dressed in a green t-shirt with the Dispatch logo on it and a pair of jeans, he cut an endearing picture to Eric. The brunet must have been truly exhausted not to stir either for the phone or the sound of his voice greeting him. Eric eased the book from his hands, marked his place for him and pulled the quilt off the back of the couch. He covered him up and he took Alan’s glasses off and set them on the end table, taking a moment to stroke his soft hair fondly.

"Poor thing," he whispered. "Yer really tuckered ou’, aren’t ya?"

The motorcycle ride could wait for another time. So as not to disturb Alan’s rest, the officer walked into the bedroom and shut the door before making a call to the academy on his work phone. “This is Officer Slingby,” he said when the Dean picked up. “I’ll be coming by in a little while to collect the rest of Alan Humphries’ belongings. He’s staying here with me until he starts at Dispatch next week. Yes sir, I can bring his student ID with me. See you shortly.”

He hung up and went over to Alan’s overnight bag, and he started to dig through it but then changed his mind. Al probably wouldn’t appreciate him just rifling through his things like this. Besides, he probably had his ID on him in his wallet, anyway. He went back into the living room and he regretfully nudged the sleeping brunet awake.

"Alan, sorry tae wake ya," he said when the younger reaper snorted and jerked awake, sleepily startled. "I jus’ need yer student ID, an’ ye can go righ’ back tae sleep."

"My ID?" queried Alan, covering a yawn. "What for? Oh, and hi."

Eric smiled. “Hi, yerself. I’m just gonna go an’ get tha rest o’ yer things. Are they all packed up in yer trunk at th’ dorm, or do I need tae be on the lookout fer anythin?”

Alan shook his head. “No, I packed it all in the trunk.” He lifted his hips up a little to get his wallet out, and he then noticed that he’d been covered up. He gave the Scotsman a little smile of gratitude, squinting a little without his glasses. “Thank you.”

Eric shrugged and took the ID card from him. “Dinnae want ye tae get chilled.”

He slipped the ID into his own wallet. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

"Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?"

Eric shook his head and he reached out to stroke his hair. “Jus’ rest. I can get someone from tha apartment staff tae help me bring the trunk up.”

Alan smiled and snuggled back into the chair. “Thank you, Eric.”

"Yer welcome…cutie."

Alan opened his eyes again and blushed, making the Scotsman chuckle. With a wink, Eric turned on his heel and left, fishing his keys out of his blazer on his way out.

* * *

 

By the time he returned with the trunk, Alan was up again and trying to find something to cook for dinner. The dismayed look on his young face made the Scotsman smile and with one of the staff members’ help, he carried the trunk into the bedroom and set it down. He tipped the man for his assistance and saw him out the door before joining his guest in the kitchen.

"Yer no’ likely tae find anythin’ fer a whole meal in there," he informed him, looking over the smaller reaper’s shoulder into the practically bare pantry. "If ye’re feelin’ up to it, we could always hit a restaurant fer dinner. I can pick up some groceries tomorrow on mah way home from work."

"I don’t want you spending a lot of money on me," protested Alan self-consciously. He couldn’t wait to start earning a paycheck so that he could treat Eric sometime.

"It can be our first date," suggested Eric. "An’ since I’m doin’ tha inviting, it’s only right tha’ I treat."

Alan found he couldn’t resist the crooked, coaxing smile on the blond’s lips. “Well, when you put it that way…” He smiled back. “Should I change into something less casual?” He doubted a t-shirt and jeans were acceptable attire for anyplace except a pub or a fast food place.

Eric nodded, his gaze sliding over him thoughtfully. “How about tha’ outfit ya wore tae tha spring social this year? Th’ royal blue pants an’ blazer, wi’ tha black shirt an’ th’ bolo tie? Tha’ looked nice on ya.”

Alan didn’t know quite how to react to the compliment. “You liked that one, did you? I didn’t even know you’d noticed.”

"Oh, I noticed," assured Eric with a chuckle, "along wi’ plenty of yer classmates. I just couldnae make it too obvious at th’ time."

Alan lowered his gaze, bashfully flattered by the praise. “All right; I’ll wear that outfit, then. Maybe we could watch the movie I rented afterwards, when we get back.”

Eric nodded. “Sounds like a solid plan tae me.”

* * *

 

Eric took him to a seafood restaurant, and Alan looked around with interest as they were escorted to their table and given drink and food menus. There was a huge saltwater tank in the center of the restaurant, filled with lobsters. He almost considered having one, but then he felt guilty over picking out his meal while it was still alive.

"Some reaper I make," sighed the brunet as he perused the appetizer selection. "I can’t even pick out a lobster without suffering guilt for it."

Eric chuckled at him. “There’s a vegetarian selection too, if ye don’t want anythin’ wi’ meat of any sort.”

"It isn’t that," explained Alan. "It’s just…I don’t know…actually picking out a living thing to be killed for my stomach. I know it’s ridiculous. All meat comes from something living and I don’t feel guilty when I have a burger or roast chicken."

"But it’s different when it’s righ’ in front o’ ye," guessed Eric. "I get tha’."

Alan looked at him and he nibbled his lip. “You don’t think it’s stupid?”

The blond shook his head. “No’ from you. I wouldnae want ye tae eat somethin’ tha’ makes ya feel guilty afterwards, Al. Pick out wha’ever strikes yer fancy. I think I’ll start wi’ an oyster platter.”

Alan wasn’t fond of raw oysters himself, but he certainly wouldn’t judge Eric for his taste. “Could I get a shrimp cocktail?”

"O’ course! Wha’ would ye like tae drink? Anythin’ alcoholic, or would ya rather have tea or soda?"

"Hmm." Alan looked over the wine selection, not really in the mood for anything heavy. He wasn’t used to alcohol and he didn’t want to end the date with his head in the toilet. "Maybe a glass of Zinfandel and some water?"

"Tha’s doable." The waitress came to take their drink and appetizer orders, and Eric ordered a Scotch double for himself with some water, after ordering for Alan. "I’ll also get a half platter of the oysters and a shrimp cocktail for my date," he said, toning down his accent once again so as not to confuse the server. "We ought to be ready to order our entrees when the appetizers come out."

"Right away, sir," she said with a smile, her gaze lingering on the blond’s features for a moment with admiration.

Alan sighed softly, getting used to the attention his love interest received from women and men alike. At least he wasn’t using his sexy accent. Ordinarily he hated him masking it like that, but when he didn’t it either resulted in the recipient melting or not being able to understand him.

"Wha’s wrong, Al?" questioned Eric after the waitress left to fetch their drinks and put their order in, lapsing back into his Scottish brogue. "Somethin’ botherin’ ya?"

The brunet smirked ruefully, figuring since they were on their first official date, he might as well be more direct with him. “You might think I’m insecure if I tell you this, but I won’t be able to hide it forever. I feel…a bit territorial.”

Eric looked over the top of his menu at him, the overhead lamp flashing on his blue-tinted glasses. “Eh? Wha’s tha’ mean?”

Alan lowered his gaze and shrugged, his stomach doing a curious little flip from those eyes meeting his. “It means I feel like I need to grab your hand or something to make sure people know _I’m_ with you, when they stare at you. You’re…you’re a ‘hottie’, as some of my classmates would say.”

Eric laughed softly as the younger reaper blushed. “I knew you would laugh at me,” accused Alan.

"No’ because I think it’s silly," assured the Scotsman. "I think it’s cute, an’ I’m glad ye think I’m a ‘hottie’ an’ feel ye need tae protect me from lusty admirers. It’s flattering, sweetheart."

"I think it’s rather brutish of me," sighed the smaller reaper.

Eric playfully nudged his foot under the table and he reached over to lay his big hand on top of Alan’s. “Ya know I get jealous o’er ye too, right?”

Alan swallowed, turning his hand over to hold Eric’s. “You do?”

"Mm." Eric nodded. "I’ve been worried someone else might snatch ya up before graduation an’ I’d miss my chance wi’ ye."

"Oh." Alan smiled, relaxing a little. "Well, now I feel a little better, then. There was honestly no chance of that happening, though. I’ve been crushing too hard on you to pay any attention to anyone else."

"Good tae know." Eric winked at him, and he looked back down at the menu. "See anythin’ tha’ jumps out at ya?"

Alan forced himself to concentrate on the menu as well. “I think I might try the seafood bisque.”

Eric nodded. “Good choice. I’ve had it before an’ it’s really nice. Hmm, now tha’ ye mention it, I might go wi’ tha’ too.”

Right on time, the waitress returned with their drinks and their appetizers. “Here you are,” she said as she placed the items on the table. “Would you gentlemen like more time to decide, or shall I take your entree orders now?”

"We’re both having the seafood bisque," replied Eric. He took the menus and offered them to her. "Thanks."

"Two bisques," she repeated, writing it down as she tucked the menus beneath her arm. "That should be ready in twenty minutes, sir. Please enjoy your appetizers."

She smiled at Eric again, and Alan pointedly squeezed the blond’s hand, still held in his. He felt silly again when Eric smirked knowingly at her as the waitress left once more. “I know,” sighed Alan. “It’s ridiculous.”

Eric shook his head and spread his napkin over his lap. “I dun’ think so. I think she wants mah body. Better protect me or I might get jumped.”

Alan couldn’t help but smile with amusement, though he was still embarrassed by his own jealousy. “You’re enjoying this.”

Eric shrugged and gently pulled his hand out of Alan’s so that they could both eat. “Jus’ a lil’. Want tae try an oyster?”

Alan glanced at the glistening shellfish and he shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ve tried them before and I don’t care for the texture.”

Eric shrugged. “Wull, I tried.” He squeezed a little lemon over one of the oysters and shook a dash of hot sauce into it, before loosening it from the shell with the little cocktail fork and tipping into his mouth.

"Would you like one of my shrimp?" offered the younger reaper solicitously, trying not to stare at the way Eric’s throat worked as he swallowed.

"Sure, I’ll try one," answered the blond after taking a sip of water. He reached out to select one of them and he dipped it in the cocktail sauce. Alan did the same, and they stared at each other as they enjoyed the treat.

"Ye’ve go’ tha prettiest eyes," complimented Eric after swallowing. "Anyone e’er tell ya tha’?"

Alan lowered said eyes and blushed lightly. “No. That sounds kind of like a line.”

Eric chuckled. “Maybe it is, but it’s an honest one, at least. Ya really _do_ have pretty eyes, Alan.”

Alan smiled softly and took a sip of his wine. “What do you find pretty about them? They’re the same color as every other reaper’s eyes, after all.”

"It’s tha shape of ‘em," answered the blond. "And those thick lashes. Ye’ve go’ doe eyes. Verra expressive an’ gentle. They always catch me an’ drag me in, if I gaze into ‘em too long."

Alan’s face heated further. He’d heard some rumors about Eric’s penchant for being charming, of course, and he wasn’t so naive as to think the older man wasn’t trying at least a little to seduce him. Eric had a knack for flirtation and Alan was beginning to think he didn’t even consciously do it anymore. Nonetheless, it was nice to be the object of his affection, to know the man wanted him enough to sweet-talk him. Maybe he’d done the very same thing to several other people in the past, but with luck, he would be the last one he deliberately flirted with. Now if he could just do something about the jealousy that burned him whenever people reacted to Eric’s natural sex appeal.

* * *

 

The rest of the evening went perfectly. The food came out in time, they split a rich slice of mud cake for dessert, and they enjoyed the warm night air as they returned to Eric’s car together. He put the top down for the ride back to the apartment and he put the movie in once they were inside with their shoes off.

"Hey Al," he called as the brunet came out of the bathroom, "Didja want tae change in tae somethin’ more comfortable? I’m thinking PJ’s, meself."

Alan looked down at his dressy attire and he nodded. “I like that idea.” There was no reason they couldn’t get comfortable while they relaxed to watch the film and allow their meals to digest.

"A’right; you go ahead an’ change first an’ then I’ll go in after yer finished tae do th’ same."

"Okay." The smaller reaper went into the bedroom to procure his pajamas, and he quickly changed into them before zipping up his outfit in the protective bag he kept it in to prevent creasing and wrinkles. He came back into the living room with a small smile and he took a seat on the sofa. "Your turn." The main menu of the movie was playing on the television screen, waiting to be started.

Eric went to change and when he came out, Alan gulped and fiddled with the tv remote. He was dressed in the same pajama bottoms as last night—once again shirtless. He certainly wasn’t very modest…but then it _was_ summertime and it was probably more comfortable to go without a pajama top at night.

"Want somethin’ tae drink?" offered the Scotsman. "A nightcap or some milk? Sorry there’s no’ much else tae choose from righ’ now. I’ve go’ some teabags in here if yer in tha mood fer tha’."

"M-milk would be fine," replied Alan. His cheeks were still warm from the single glass of wine he’d had with dinner, and he felt pleasantly buzzed. No more alcohol for him, or he might embarrass himself.

Eric poured the milk for him, and a glass of icewater for himself. He brought the drinks over to the sofa and he set them on coasters on top of the coffee table. “Ready tae start th’ movie?”

"Sure," Alan said, all too aware of his proximity. Eric dropped an arm around his shoulders and a thrill went through him as he started up the movie.

"So wha’s this movie about?" asked the Scotsman, murmuring into his ear.

The brunet’s mind froze and he couldn’t recall words in any language to answer him. He turned his head to look at him and all he could think of was how close the other man’s lips were to his own. “I…don’t remember,” he admitted, feeling stupid.

Eric took the remote from him and paused it at the opening credits. “Doesn’t really matter. I jus’ remembered somethin’ I promised tae both of us, when we had our first date. I haven’t done it yet.”

Alan’s heart slammed against his ribcage at a rapid tempo as he realized exactly what he was talking about. The kiss. He hadn’t delivered the kiss he said he’d give him on the first date. Tired of waiting for it, the younger reaper slid a hand over Eric’s bare shoulder and closed the distance between their mouths, beating him to it. That electricity was back again, the moment their lips touched. He closed his eyes and gripped the other man’s shoulder demandingly, parting his lips in silent invitation. Eric’s tongue pushed in between them and slid against his enticingly, a purr resonating in the Scotsman’s throat.

Throbbing in various places with excitement, Alan reciprocated the caress of his companion’s tongue, following his lead. The pressure of Eric’s lips deepened and his fingers slid through Alan’s hair. His tongue began to do things in his mouth that made Alan breathless. It was a little different from that brief, passionate kiss they’d fallen into that day months ago. Even in the heat of the moment, Eric must have been holding back. Now his tongue danced and thrust in his mouth demandingly, and all that Alan could do was whimper and give in, stroking it with his own as it ravished him.

Somehow he ended up cradled in Eric’s lap, with his arms around his neck and the Scotsman’s arms cradling him. Eric’s mouth left his to kiss his throat, and Alan tilted his head back in bliss, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of the hot, velvety lips kissing their way down his sensitive skin. He was feeling overheated, his pajama bottoms straining as he hardened in them. He felt Eric’s fingers flicking open the buttons of his pajama top, and then the blessed coolness of the air conditioning caressed his bared chest and stomach. The blond’s palm stroked his belly, then slid upwards to his chest and a thrill of pleasure went through Alan as the pad of his thumb brushed back and forth over a nipple, making it tighten wantonly.

"Eric…ahh—ha," he moaned thoughtlessly, hardly aware that the sound was coming from him.

Eric’s mouth covered his again, his tongue gliding in to tease Alan’s as he fondled the other nipple. Rhea, his crotch was aching, he was so hard. It couldn’t be good for a guy to swell so fast, could it? Alan squirmed, blushing as he considered begging Eric to touch him down there. The Scotsman continued to rub his nipples slowly, his mouth making love to his as Alan fretted and whined in his arms.

"Too hard," whimpered Alan softly when the older reaper’s mouth left his again to kiss his jaw.

Misunderstanding the complaint, Eric gentled his touch on the pebbled buds he was pleasuring. “Sorry, sweetheart. Better?”

"Nuh…not that," Alan tried to explain, looking up at him with dazed, glowing eyes. He could feel Eric’s arousal digging into his bottom from below, pushing intimately against him between his buttocks. It made him want to scream. "Feels good," he managed, "but it’s making…me too hard!"

Comprehending, Eric smirked. “Oh.” He looked down at the obscene tent poking up in Alan’s pajama bottoms, and he kissed his neck again, resuming the torture. “One thing at a time, Alan. Shhh.”

Alan bucked helplessly as the Scotsman sucked on his earlobe and squeezed his left nipple gently. “Please,” he moaned, no longer caring how promiscuous he sounded. He needed to feel that big, strong hand rubbing him where he ached the most. “Eric…please!”

"Mmm, no’ yet," insisted the officer in a husky purr. He sucked on the spot where Alan’s neck met his skull, just below the earlobe, and he gave the other nipple a gentle squeeze before flicking his fingertip over it.

"Anh…Eric…ohh!"

He was going to come. Alan bit his lip and fought it, panting heavily as pulses of delight rolled through him and made his length twitch in his pants. He thought he might have it under control, but then Eric granted his pleas and the hand that had been mercilessly fondling his nipples slid down between his legs to palm his crotch.

"Shh, sweetheart," murmured Eric against his neck as he began to rub the hardness with gentle, steady motions. "I’ll take care o’ ya."

And he did—with humiliating ease. His kisses drowned out Alan’s moans and cries of pleasure as he patiently rubbed him through the pajama bottoms, ignoring Alan’s breathless attempts to warn him. The brunet tangled his fingers into Eric’s wavy blond hair without thought as his hips jerked and he blew his load in his pants. Eric’s kiss gentled, his palm still rubbing him as he twitched until he was sated and trembling in his arms.

"Haah…s-sweet gods," panted Alan, flushed and stunned from the experience.

It was so much _better_ to be handled that way by someone other than himself…and Eric hadn’t even exposed him or put his hands down his pants. He looked up at the man holding him and he swallowed. Eric was watching him with a tender, pleased expression on his handsome face, his eyes aglow with lust as Alan’s had been as they roved over his flushed face appreciatively.

"I…made a mess in my pajamas," blurted Alan, unable to think of anything else to say.

Eric smiled at him and lowered his head to kiss him softly on the lips. “It’ll wash. I dinnae trust meself tae undress ya more than tha’, love.” He shifted a little, grimacing in discomfort at the tightness between his own thighs. “I din’t even mean tae take it sae far as tha’. Ye were jus’ so sweet an’ sexy an’ passionate…”

He trailed off with a sigh, smirking ruefully. “Sorry.”

Alan shook his head, blushing all over again even as he tried to reassure him. “Don’t be, Eric. I…that was amazing and…I just hope I can do the same for you, sometime.”

Eric groaned, shutting his eyes. “Och, dun’ tempt me tae take ya up on tha’ offer tonight,” he said with a pained chuckle. He helped him to sit up, and he hugged him for a moment and kissed his cheek. “Got tae watch meself wi’ ya, cutie. How ‘bout ya take a shower an’ change intae ano’er pair of PJ’s before we get in tae this movie?”

A little wobbly on his legs and uncomfortable now that he was aware of the sticky mess he’d made in his pants, Alan clutched his pajama top shut and he got up from the couch. “Lucky I have more than one pair of PJ’s,” he stated, but he was smiling as he went to the bedroom to get said spares.

He paused at the hallway and he looked back at the reclining Scotsman uncertainly. “Eric…are we dating now? I mean…steady?” He’d never gone steady with anyone before, so he wasn’t sure what constituted an official relationship.

"As far as I’m concerned, yeah," answered Eric with a wink. "Unless ye’d rather see other people fer a while."

Alan shook his head rapidly. “Oh, no you don’t! You’re mine now.”

Horrified by his own words, Alan all but ran into the bedroom to fetch his change of pajamas, while Eric laughed heartily.

* * *

 

-To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

 

The next morning, Eric left some money for Alan to pick up some groceries while he was at work, and to buy lunch for himself if he so chose. When he came back home at sunset, he walked in to the smell of food cooking and he paused at the doorway, sniffing the air curiously. “Steak?”

His mouth watered at the thought and he went into the kitchen to find Alan busy at the stove, pan-grilling two rib eyes. A pot full of cubed potatoes boiled on the other burner, and a smaller pot of green beans simmered on a third burner.

"Looks like ya made good use o’ tha cash I left ya," said Eric with a smile as he came up behind the smaller reaper. He embraced him from behind and murmured into his ear. "Thanks, Alan. I hope it wasnae too much trouble."

Alan shivered in response to the embrace and the feel of his breath on his ear. “Not at all. I only bought one bag’s worth of groceries so that we’d have something for dinner tonight, so it wasn’t too much to carry.”

Eric released him, suddenly recalling something. “Och…groceries! I picked some up on mah way home an’ they’re still in tha car.” He kissed the brunet on the cheek. “Be right back. I’d better go an’ get ‘em.”

Alan smirked with amusement as the Scotsman got his keys back out and left to retrieve said items. A few moments later, he returned carrying several bags, somehow managing to let himself back in without dropping anything.

"There," said Eric as he set the bags down and started putting the merchandise away. "Now we’ve go’ more food in tha house. I dunno wha’ sort of things ya like, so I tried tae pick up a lil’ of everything."

Alan shrugged and turned the steaks over. “I’m really not that picky. I’ll give almost anything a try.”

"Good tae know." Eric put some meat cuts in the freezer, then stocked the refrigerator. "How would ya like a ride on mah bike after dinner tonight?"

Alan smiled at him. “Okay. Just remember, I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before. You’ll have to show me how to sit and where to put my feet.” He trusted Eric not to drive too fast on his first time out.

"O’ course," agreed the blond with a nod. "It’s pretty simple fer tha passenger, really. Ya just put yer arms around me an’ lean when I lean."

"There’s leaning involved?" Alan frowned. Maybe he wasn’t ready for this after all.

"Jus’ a little," answered Eric. "Fer balance. Ye’ll pick up on it in no time, though. Yer a fast learner."

He ruffled Alan’s soft brown hair affectionately. “Anythin’ I can do tae help wi’ dinner?”

"You could set the table for us and pour the drinks," decided Alan after checking the steaks. "How cooked do you want yours, by the way? I don’t want to mess it up for you."

"I like mine medium rare," answered the Scotsman as he began to get the silverware out, "but even if ya cook it more ‘n tha’, I’ll still eat it. It’s steak."

Alan chuckled. “Well then, yours is done. Could you bring me a plate, please?”

"Sure." Eric collected a couple of green plates from the cabinet and he set them on the counter by the stove. "Smells good, by the way."

The smaller reaper smiled again. “I rubbed them down with olive oil and some seasoned tenderizer.” He forked up Eric’s meat and placed it on the plate while the Scotsman got some glasses out.

"What do ye want tae drink?" questioned Eric.

"I bought some apple juice when I went to the little corner grocery store. That will be fine for me, thanks."

Eric nodded and poured some, and then he opened up a beer for himself. “Dunno why tha hell I got out two glasses,” he muttered, putting the empty one back.

Alan spooned up some green beans and got started on mashing and seasoning the potatoes. “Impulse,” he guessed with a little smile. “Do you like pepper in your mash?”

"Aye, some pepper’s always good. Here." Eric got the pepper grinder for him, and then he retrieved the butter from the fridge. "Teamwork." He kissed Alan on the cheek again.

Happy with the domestic romance of the situation, Alan couldn’t stop smiling. Every little kiss and touch from the man made his pulse race and gave him a sweet thrill. “Eric, I hope they partner me with you when my preliminary time is finished.”

"I’ve already made tha request," assured the blond. Seein’ as I mentored ye, there’s a fair chance they will. I like Sutcliff well enough, but we dun’ really fit as partners. He’s just as reckless as I am and we feed off each other in tha’ field. I need someone tae keep me in line." He winked playfully at Alan and took a swig of his beer.

"Yes, you do," agreed Alan, his heart skipping a beat at that wink. He finished with the potatoes and he spooned some up onto Eric’s plate, along with some green beans. "And the thought of you partnered with some other reaper makes me jealous."

Eric laughed and took his plate. “It’s no’ like it’s a romantic arrangement, sweetheart. Grell’s a flirt with men, aye, but he knows his limits with everyone ‘cept Spears. He hasnae laid a hand on me.”

"Good. It has better stay that way," said Alan seriously. He turned his steak again and dressed his own plate up. "I think mine’s about ready, too."

"Good, then let’s eat."

* * *

 

After a nice meal, Eric washed up the dishes, changed into something more casual and put on his leather jacket. He helped Alan into his light, brown jacket after that and showed him how to put on his helmet. “Shouldn’t get too cold,” he reasoned, “but I’ve got a little blanket rolled up in mah touring bags, jus’ in case. Thought I’d take ye o’er the mid-town skyway an’ across tha river. There’s a park on tha other side we can stop at fer a while.”

"Sounds fun," enthused Alan—though he was admittedly a bit nervous. The sight of Eric in leather and jeans made it worth it to him, though. He tightened his helmet a little and followed the taller man out the door. When they made it into the garage and approached Eric’s motorcycle, Alan hesitated. Eric took the bike’s cover off, straddled the driver’s seat and glanced at him.

"Ya getting’ on, sweetheart?"

Alan swallowed and nodded, gingerly climbing onto the passenger seat behind his boyfriend. His _boyfriend_. Thinking of Eric that way made him so happy, and he drudged up some courage for his sake. He was determined to have a good time with him, to show him he wasn’t too afraid to share the things he enjoyed. He put his arms around the Scotsman’s waist after Eric showed him where to put his feet, and he held onto him tightly.

"Just don’t let us fall," he pleaded as Eric began to back the motorcycle out of the parking space.

"No’ a chance," promised Eric. He started up the engine and revved it a couple of times to warm it up. It wasn’t as loud as some motorcycles Alan had heard—or maybe his helmet was muffling some of the noise. Within moments, they were driving out of the parking garage and heading for the skyway.

At first, Alan kept his eyes shut and his face pressed against his companion’s broad back. He remembered to lean with him when they turned or shifted lanes, and after a little while he opened his eyes and lifted his head. The feel of the night wind on his face was nice, if a bit chilly. Eric was kind enough not to exceed the speed limit, and it was with some relief that Alan noticed he always used his blinkers when changing lanes or turning. He seemed very mindful of his passenger, keeping the ride smooth for him. Alan began to relax, smiling without even realizing he was doing so. It was kind of fun, after all. It gave him a sense of freedom.

They made it up onto the skyway and the wind made the ride a little rougher, but Eric was a good driver and he kept the bike under control with a practiced hand. He pulled off onto the walkway at the top of the span, and he pointed a gloved finger at the sky.

"Alan, look…full moon."

The brunet looked as advised and he had to admire the sight of the swollen yellow moon over the water. It was a clear night, and he wished he’d brought a camera to snap a picture of the scenery. The lights of the city were lovely, and suddenly he wanted a kiss.

"Eric, could you turn around?"

"Ya want tae go back?" inquired the blond in a slightly disappointed tone, misunderstanding him.

Alan shook his head. “No. I meant _you_ turn around, not the bike.”

"Oh." Eric twisted in his seat to look at him. "Somethin’ wr—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his question before Alan’s lips met his in a kiss. He went still for a second, and then he returned it with his usual intensity, making the smaller reaper breathless. Tongues seeking each other out, they kissed for several heartbeats until someone driving by honked at them and yelled for them to get a room.

Blushing, Alan broke the kiss. Eric was grinning shamelessly, seemingly unconcerned with what passers-by thought. “Wull tha’ was a nice surprise,” he said. “Too bad we cannae stay up here fer verra long, though. The coppers’ll ticket me if they happen tae see me stopped up here.”

Alan nodded in understanding and put his arms around him again. “I’m ready.”

Eric checked the traffic coming behind him and when he got an opening, he pulled back onto the road and finished the drive to the other side of the skyway. Once they made it there, he turned off on a street to the right and drove them to the riverside park. Once there, he parked the bike and turned off the headlight, before getting off and offering a hand to Alan. The smaller reaper climbed off with his assistance and he stared as Eric removed his helmet and shook his golden head to loosen his hair. With a smile and a wink, Eric put his helmet on the rack before helping Alan remove his.

"How ‘bout a stroll on tha river walk?"

Alan combed his fingers through his hair and nodded. “I would like that.” He’d never been to this park before.

Eric pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into his jacket pocket, before taking Alan’s hand in his larger one. Having never been courted like this before, Alan smiled shyly and squeezed his boyfriend’s hand, falling into step with him.

"Thank you," he said as they made it to the footpath parallel to the river.

Eric glanced at him. “Fer what?”

Alan gestured vaguely. “All this. I’m having a really good time.”

Eric smiled at him. “I’m glad. Wasnae sure ye’d enjoy tha ride too much. Ya were squeezing tha breath out o’ me there, when we first started off.”

Alan chuckled softly. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t bruise you.”

"Nah, I’m tough." Eric released his hand to put an arm around him. "And ye did relax after a while. See? Told ya I wouldnae let us drop."

Alan laid his head against the blond’s shoulder and put an arm around him in return, sighing as the breeze from the river stirred his hair. “I feel more confident about riding, now. Thank you for going easy on it.”

Eric nuzzled his hair and guided him over to a bench to sit down. “I’d ne’er let ya fall. In the off chance I loose control of the bike, I’ll break yer fall wi’ mah own body before I let ya get hurt.”

Alan smiled. He never would have guessed he’d enjoy having someone so protective of him. People already tended to underestimate his abilities because of his size, but he knew that wasn’t the case with Eric. They sat down on the bench together and Alan gulped as his companion slipped a hand under his chin to guide his head back, before claiming his lips in a kiss. Heart beating fast and hard, Alan clutched at Eric’s leather jacket and he let his tongue in, submitting to it as it stroked against his demandingly. Rhea, the man could kiss. Not that he had a basis for comparison, really, but he honestly couldn’t imagine anyone else possessing this sensual intensity.

The kiss deepened, and Alan tugged the zipper down on Eric’s jacket to part it. Once it was open, his fingers stroked the blond’s t-shirt clad chest, admiring the tone of the muscles concealed beneath it. He was a little surprised by his own boldness as he stroked his hand down over his companion’s abs, but Eric had a way of making him forget his reservations.

"Mmm," purred the Scotsman, his fingers unbuttoning Alan’s jacket in return.

That low, tactile sound gave rise to further excitement—among other things. Alan’s jeans began to feel too snug and he dropped his hand lower, hesitantly inching it closer to the source of his curiosity. He provoked another of those sounds when he cupped the growing bulge in Eric’s jeans, and he whimpered at how it filled his hand. This was his first time to ever touch someone this way, and he dearly hoped he wasn’t being too forward. He doubted it after the encounter they’d shared the night before, but he didn’t want to seem too promiscuous, all the same.

"Feels good, sweetheart," murmured Eric against his lips as Alan began to rub the area with clumsy but eager motions.

With his soft encouragement, Alan felt a bit more confident and he gave the bulge a squeeze, going by what felt good to him. He might be unpracticed with sharing this kind of intimacy with another, but he had the same parts as Eric and he knew what he himself liked. The bulge got bigger and harder as he fondled it, and the brunet started to wonder how much bigger it could get. He wanted to unzip Eric’s pants to see his endowments un-obscured for the first time, but he restrained himself. A public park was no place to do such a thing—unless he wanted to risk someone seeing them and ending up with indecent exposure charges.

He settled for kissing his way along Eric’s jaw to his ear, and he tongued the piercings there as he fondled him. The Scotsman’s breath caught and he groaned softly, pushing into Alan’s fondling hand. “Yer getting’ me hot,” he informed the smaller man breathlessly. “If ye had any idea how…hard it is fer me tae…hold off, Alan…”

Alan smiled against the sensitive shell of his companion’s ear, giving his crotch another squeeze. His words bolstered his confidence further, and he was enjoying the feeling of power he had over Eric. “I think I’ve got an idea of how ‘hard’ it is.”

Eric growled low in his throat suddenly, startling him. The Scotsman turned his head to capture his lips, cupping the back of Alan’s head to hold it steady as he ravished his mouth. The sound of the brunet’s surprise was swallowed in the kiss, and the thrill he got from Eric’s passion made him moan and tremble. Dear gods, he wanted this man. If Eric decided to hang propriety and take him right there on the bench, Alan didn’t think he’d have the willpower to resist or protest.

After plundering his mouth for several moments, Eric broke the kiss and cupped his face, gazing deep into his eyes. He was breathing heavily, his comely features tense with lust. “I think we’d better cool it,” warned the Scotsman huskily, “else yer no’ gonna wake up a virgin t’morrow.”

His frankness made Alan blush, but it also caused a shocking wave of desire to pulse through him. “I…don’t think I would object to that.”

Eric gave him one of those sexy, crooked smiles. “Yer really testing me, Al. I’ve ne’er held back this much before.”

There was a promise in his glittering eyes, leaving little doubt to his sincerity. It touched Alan to know he respected him enough to wait, even if he himself felt like he was more than ready for their first time. He stopped fondling him and he sighed, putting his arms around Eric’s neck and resting his cheek against his shoulder.

"I think I’m falling in love with you," confessed the brunet softly.

He felt Eric’s calloused fingers slip under his chin and he allowed the blond to tilt his head back. Their eyes met again, and Alan saw the warmth in his gaze that silently expressed answering feelings. “I already _know_ I’m fallin’ fer ya, sweetheart.”

And then he was kissing him again…tenderly, this time. Alan combed his fingers through the Scotsman’s wavy hair, gently separating any tangles he found. When they came up for breath again, they were both smiling.

"Want tae walk a bit more, or would ya rather head back tae my place?" asked Eric.

Considering the state he was in from their makeout session, Alan glanced down at his lap. “I think a walk first, to cool me off.”

Eric smirked and looked down at his own lap. “Aye…might make tha ride back home more comfortable.”

* * *

 

By the end of the week, Alan felt thoroughly spoiled. Eric took him on a date each night after work; whether it was for a bike ride, dinner, or a trip to the park. They spent around an hour making out before bed each night, and Alan found it both intriguing and frustrating to feel Eric’s arousal against his bottom when he spooned up behind him to go to sleep. He still hadn’t gotten the opportunity to stroke Eric off, though the Scotsman did it twice more to him before the week’s end. He explained that he didn’t trust himself to behave if he allowed Alan to return the favor, so the brunet grudgingly waited.

It came time for him to begin his first day of work and move into the residency assigned to him by Dispatch. Alan wasn’t all that happy to move out of Eric’s apartment and live on his own for the first time, but he didn’t want to crowd the man. The first month was rather brutal, as Eric had warned him it would be. He spent most of his days running errands like a chicken with its head cut off, and he was sent out on reaping assignments with senior officers once per week, to assess his skill and professionalism. It did get easier, he found. By the time his evaluation period was over and he’d reaped his eighth mark, it was more bearable and less upsetting.

He did, however, still feel a curious urge to let the reels pass through him, so that he could better understand what these mortals went through when being reaped. He resisted the temptation with difficulty, and at the end of the month he was called into William T. Spears’ office to discuss his performance and his future within Dispatch.

"Good afternoon," greeted the supervisor politely when Alan entered the room. Eric was already there, sitting in one of the chairs opposite William’s desk. "Please close the door behind you and have a seat, Mr. Humphries."

Alan did as instructed and sat down in the chair beside his boyfriend, giving Eric a nervous little smile before folding his hands into his lap. William wrote something down on a document, and then he turned it to face his visitors, placing a pen on top of it.

"Now, before we begin I would like to summarize your performance evaluation," explained the stoic reaper. "All reports of your conduct both in the office and in the field have been favorable. The one concern we have is that you seem to have some difficulty distancing yourself from your targets. Can you explain to me why that is, Humphries?"

Alan grimaced, guessing it must have been officer Sutcliff that brought up such a concern. His first two times out when he began working there had been with Grell, and he hadn’t been able to completely hide his pity for the humans they’d reaped. He didn’t hold it against him for saying something about it, though. It was a senior officer’s job to report any concerns over whether a new agent had what it took to stay with Dispatch.

"I’m still learning to be objective with my marks," admitted Alan softly, "but I’m improving, sir."

Eric nodded. “He is. Nobody starts out detached, boss.”

"I am all too aware," mused William. "Do you feel emotionally capable of continuing this line of work, Mr. Humphries? Think carefully before answering. There is a good reason why we are so short-staffed here, and while it would be a shame to waste potential like yours and miss out on a competent agent, it would be even more of a pity for you to take on something you are ill prepared for and end up killed or institutionalized."

Alan nodded, understanding all too well his concerns. The hardships of this job was known to drive some reapers mad or suicidal; and there was always the danger of a demon encounter while out collecting records. “I have thought it over carefully throughout my evaluation month, sir, and I feel I can handle this career.”

Eric smiled softly, but said nothing.

"Very well, then." William nodded at the documents; which appeared to be copies of a Shinigami contract. "I require signatures from both you and your former mentor. The board has agreed that you work best with Mr. Slingby and would compliment him as a partner. You will begin as a junior officer of this establishment, with a cubicle to work from for a start. You shall be up for evaluation in one year’s time and your performance up until then will determine whether you gain a promotion or not. I must caution you that most agents do not meet qualifications to become senior officers in their first year, so do not expect promotion for several years, to avoid disappointment."

Alan nodded. “Understood, sir.” He signed next to his printed name on both copies, then gave the pen over to Eric so that he could do the same.

William took the documents and placed them into a filing folder, before standing up and extending his hand cordially for both men to shake. They stood up as well and accepted the handshake. “Congratulations Mr. Humphries, and to you as well on your new partner, Mr. Slingby. That will be all for today.”

Alan gave a little bow, unable to contain his smile. “Thank you, supervisor Spears.”

Together, he and Eric left the office, and he stopped outside and leaned against the wall, sighing with relief. “I made it.”

Eric smiled at him. “Knew ya could do it, Alan. What d’ya say we celebrate tonight after clockin’ out?”

Alan nodded. “Okay, but as soon as I get my first paycheck, _I_ want to treat _you_ for a change.”

The Scotsman laughed softly and patted him on the arm. “Sounds fair tae me.”

* * *

 

Alan had his first run-in with a demon a week later. He and Eric were out on a fairly standard assignment to collect the records of a murder victim, who was poisoned by a rival for a lady’s hand in marriage. They found him gasping on the floor of his home, having been jabbed in passing with a poison needle on his way home. His rival had paid a man to do it, rather than risk being seen near him himself. The young man’s lips were turning gray and his hand clutched the telephone—which he’d knocked over trying to ring for help when he first began to feel the symptoms.

Eric stepped over him and he looked at his companion. “Won’t be long now,” he predicted. The man’s eyes were glossy and unfocused. He didn’t seem to see anything around him, and his phone tumbled from his numb fingers as the paralysis spread to his extremities.

"What a terrible way to die," sighed Alan. He’d just gotten his custom scythe the day before, and he called it into his hand and prepared to make the cut to begin gathering the records. He noticed Eric’s sudden tension and he felt a dark presence behind him, just as the Scotsman called his own scythe.

"Alan, get back," ordered the Scotsman tensely.

Confused, Alan turned around to see a mass of shadows taking form near the front door. A pair of slit-pupiled, glowing magenta eyes stared out from the darkness, before a set of huge spider legs spread out from within it. Startled, the brunet staggered back and he tripped on the dying mark. He would have fallen down if his partner hadn’t reached out to steady him, and Eric’s tall, protective form was suddenly between him and the threat, standing over their assigned mark.

"Reapers," said a voice as chill as the grave. The spider legs retreated and a tall, handsome fellow with amber eyes, dark hair and glasses stood before them, the shadows around him evaporating. "How unfortunate."

"Find ano’er meal," warned Eric. "This mortal’s ours."

"Is that so?" The black-haired man was dressed in formal attire, and he looked down at the man on the floor. "It seems our friend does not agree with you. He called out to me."

"Doesn’t matter," Eric persisted stubbornly. "We go’ here first an’ we’re takin’ his records."

"So you wish to fight over him?" The demon’s pale features looked faintly amused, a cocky smirk adorning his lips. "That can be arranged." He removed his white gloves, revealing black nails at the tips of long fingers. His eyes changed again, reverting to the demonic glow from before.

"Alan, keep back," warned Eric, never taking his eyes off the demon, "I’ll handle—oof!"

Quicker than the eye could follow, the demon closed the distance and drove his knee into Eric’s midsection. As the Scotsman doubled up, the demon grabbed a fistful of his hair and punched him in the jaw. Alan immediately moved to attack with his scythe, but the demon caught the blade between his hands with maddening ease, smiling in a bored manner at the young reaper wielding it.

"It’s rude to point weapons," informed the demon, and then he kicked Alan hard enough to send him flying three feet.

"Alan!"

Falling to the floor with a crash, the stunned brunet somehow managed to keep hold of his scythe and he put a hand to his head, trying to clear it. “‘m okay,” he assured his partner, using the pole of his long axe as a staff to help him get back to his feet.

Bleeding from the mouth, Eric growled and lunged at the demon. He dove into a roll as his opponent tried to swipe at him with claws that had suddenly grown in place of his nails, and he came up behind him and swung his death scythe. The demon nimbly jumped out of the way and retaliated, carving a trail of gashes in Eric’s shirt. Blood immediately welled up, making the shredded white shirt cling to the blond’s skin as it soaked through.

"Get _away_ from him!” shouted Alan, twirling his scythe in a dizzying move he’d been practicing on with a staff before he got his scythe modified. The demon bent weirdly backwards to avoid the spinning weapon, skittering away from Alan. Eric used the opportunity to cut into the creature’s shoulder with his scythe, and cinematic records poured out.

The demon clutched at his shoulder and backed away from the two reapers, eyes flashing with quiet anger. “I don’t believe this meal is worth the trouble,” he said, compressing his lips. “You have won this mortal, gentlemen…”

Wary of a trick, Alan kept his eyes on him and so did Eric as he again vanished into shadow. When they could no longer sense the demonic presence, the two reapers turned back to their mark.

"You’re hurt," observed Alan with concern as the blood slowly spread over Eric’s shirt.

"It’s no’ too bad," assured the blond. "Go ahead and collect tha records, Alan. I’ll keep watch jus’ in case tha’ demon tries tae come back."

The brunet nodded and went to work, concentrating carefully on his task as he drew the reels from their mark. The man shuddered and drew his last breath as the final reel was absorbed by Alan’s scythe. “Done,” announced the younger reaper. He straightened up and he looked at his partner with worry again. “We should take you to the infirmary to have that looked at. I know it isn’t a scythe wound but demon claws are tainted. You could get an infection.”

Eric looked down at the mess, pressing a hand against the injury. “Yer prolly right. Let’s go. We can finish our collections after I’ve had this looked at.”

"Maybe you should take the rest of the day off," suggested Alan. "I know demon bites and claw injuries can make reapers sick."

Eric chuckled dryly. “Let’s jus’ see wha’ tha doctor says about tha’, worry-wart.”

* * *

 

By the time they got to the hospital in Shinigami London, Eric was shivering. Alan couldn’t help his concerned expression as they waited to be called into the examination room and when he noticed the uncommon pallor his partner was taking on, he compressed his lips with determination and went to the nurse’s station.

"I’m sorry to trouble you," he told her politely, "but how much longer can we expect to wait? My partner has lost blood and I think the demon’s claws poisoned him." He pointed at Eric, who was sitting back in the chair where he’d left him, breathing heavily.

The nurse looked at the officer in question and she gave Alan a nod. “I’ll see if I can get someone to look at him sooner.” She picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Thank you."

Alan went back to Eric’s side and he stroked his bangs out of his eyes, noticing the cold sweat beading his forehead. “She’s going to try to speed things up for you,” he informed. “Can I get you some water from the cooler over there?” He nodded at the dispenser in the corner of the waiting room.

"M-might help," agreed Eric. "Throat’s a lil’ dry."

"Okay. I’ll be right back."

Alan got up again and he went to the water cooler to retrieve a paper cup and fill it. He brought it back to his partner and he held it up to his lips, seeing as Eric’s hands were too shaky to hold it. “I knew demon claws have some kind of poison or bacteria, but I didn’t know it would hit you so fast.”

"S-spider demon," explained Eric after sipping the cool liquid. "They’re o-one o’ tha worst fer tha’. G-glad he din’t get y-you too."

At once, Alan felt a surge of anger. “If I ever see that demon again, I’ll make him wish he’d never laid eyes on you.”

Eric managed a weak chuckle. “It w-won’t kill me. J-jus’ make m-me sick fer a couple days. Sorry tae scare ya.”

Knowing Eric’s penchant for brushing things off, Alan wasn’t entirely convinced. Thankfully Eric’s name got called out a moment later though, and the brunet sighed with relief and helped the taller reaper up. He put a supportive arm around Eric’s waist and assisted him into the examination room, where a female reaper doctor with strawberry blond hair waited, looking over the Scotsman’s medical charts.

"Hello again, Officer Slingby," she greeted with a little smirk, an Irish accent coloring her words. "Did ya get reckless on the job again?"

"Maybe j-jus’ a lil’," he said with a smirk. "Ya know me. Alan, th-this is Dr. O’Malley. She usually t-takes care of me when I come in wi’ an injury."

"Since day one," she agreed. "So this is your new partner? Good luck to ya, lad. You’ll have yer hands full with this man."

Alan smiled at her, then at Eric. “So I’ve seen.”

He helped Eric onto the table, unable to mask the worry on his features.

"Don’t ya be worrying too much," assured the doctor gently as she prepared medical supplies to clean Eric’s wounds. "This big lug’s seen a lot worse than a few demon scratches. Now get yer shirt off, Mr. Slingby, so I can get meself an eyeful."

Alan’s jaw dropped a little, and Eric chuckled. “Gotta love her bedside manner, aye? Help m-me out, Al. I dinnae think I can do this on mah own.”

The doctor gave Alan a playful smile and a little wink, and he relaxed. He found her too likeable to maintain jealousy over her flirty comment for long. He dutifully helped his partner out of his blazer first, and then he unbuttoned his shirt for him and eased it off. The drying blood made it cling to his injuries and Alan winced when the Scotsman hissed in discomfort as he peeled the material away from it.

Dr. O’Malley clucked her tongue at the sight of it and she shook her head, adjusting her green-framed glasses. “Lucky ya came in so soon. You’ll be feelin’ under the weather for a few days, at least. Nasty hellspawn, markin’ up such a fine example o’ manhood.”

"Um…" Alan blushed, completely agreeing with her but uncomfortable once more with her blunt flirtation.

"She’s jus’ p-playing," assured Eric.

"Oh, is there more to yer partnership than business, then?" guessed the doctor with an amused glance at Alan. She snapped on a pair of sterile gloves. "Sorry lad. I’ve known Slingby since we both transferred here. It’s all just in good fun. Now Eric, lie down for me and put yer arms up. This will sting a bit."

Eric nodded and obeyed, taking in a slow breath and holding it as she began to clean the wounds. Alan watched curiously as the doctor worked over his partner with practiced skill, thoroughly cleaning the slashes before applying medicine to them and dressing them. A few pained grunts were the only sounds of complaint Eric made—until Dr. O’Malley opened a fresh syringe and got out a little bottle of medication from the fridge to fill it.

"Yer gonna stick me again?" protested the Scotsman.

She measured out the dose and she nodded. “Unless you want it to get infected, ya silly man. Maybe this’ll convince ya t’ be more careful.”

He sighed, and Alan raised a brow. “You’ll brush off being shredded by demon claws like it’s a paper-cut, but you cringe at the sight of a needle?”

The doctor laughed before Eric could say anything and she approached with said needle. “He’s a big baby when it comes t’ shots, Mister…I’m sorry, he never told me yer name.”

"Humphries," supplied the brunet. "Alan Humphries."

"Well then, Alan Humpries…pleasure t’ meet ya." She administered the shot and when Eric yelped a complaint, she rolled her eyes. "Be still, ya whiney thing. There, it’s already over with."

Eric rubbed the spot on his shoulder where she’d stuck him. “If ya wouldnae attack it like a dartboard, maybe I’d complain less.”

"Not likely," she said breezily, disposing of the syringe. "Yer all set now, love. Ya can probably salvage the blazer, but ya might as well toss that shirt. Looks like you’ll be giving _everyone_ an eyeful when ya go to leave.”

Alan grimaced at the thought and he removed his own blazer to drape it over Eric’s shoulders. It was far too small to cover his chest, but at least it provided _some_ modesty. The Scotsman chuckled at his antics and squeezed his hand, already regaining some color to his cheeks.

"Afraid someone’ll run off wi’ me if they see mah bare chest?" he teased. "Och, I’d better no’ wear my swimmers in public again."

Alan flushed and shrugged. “I’m just trying to cut down on the amount of eye-humping.”

Dr. O’Malley joined Eric’s soft laughter. “Ah, yer a cute one, Mr. Humphries. Now take your man home and see t’ it he goes straight to bed. He’ll suffer dizzy spells and nausea for a day or so, but I’m sure you’ll take good care o’ him. I’ll send ya off with some dressing and antiseptic ointment so you can change out his bandaging until it heals up.”

"We’ll have to report in first," sighed Alan. "Or at least, I will. Is he going to be okay on his own tomorrow if I can’t take time off to watch over him?"

"Hmm, maybe ya should call a sitter," mused the doctor, only half-teasing. "He’s a stubborn lug, t’ be sure."

"Hey!" Protested Eric. "I’m no’ a child. I can be on my own while he goes tae work."

"…I think I might look into a sitter," murmured Alan seriously.

Eric grumbled under his breath.

* * *

 

-To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

They stopped by Alan’s living quarters after they left the hospital, so that he could pack a small suitcase and stay with him for a few days. That night, Eric started running a temperature, and he tossed and turned in the bed until Alan got up and filled a bowl with water, adding a few ice cubes to it. He retrieved a washcloth from the linen closet and he went back into the bedroom with them, setting the bowl carefully on the nightstand before climbing into the bed with his partner.

"Shh, Eric," murmured the brunet as he turned the bedside lamp on its lowest setting so that he could see better. He put his glasses back on and he wetted the cloth and began to wipe him down with it. "It’s all right."

"A-Alan…get away," mumbled the Scotsman tensely.

At first, Alan thought he was rejecting his comfort, but then he saw that his eyes were still closed and he realized he was caught up in a nightmare—probably about him getting hurt. “Eric, wake up,” he urged, dabbing at the bigger man’s heated forehead with the damp cloth. “You’re just having a fever dream. I’m right here and we’re both safe.”

Eric’s eyes flared open and focused on him, bright with a fierce emotion of some kind. He reached out to stroke one of the brunet’s legs, folded up beneath him. “Yer okay?”

Alan smiled and nodded. “The demon didn’t so much as scratch me, thanks to you. We’re in your bedroom.”

Eric sighed with obvious relief, throat working as he swallowed. “Ah, sorry. Mah thrashin’ must have woke ya up.”

"I don’t mind." Alan dipped the cloth into the water bowl again and wrung it out, before dabbing his partner’s face and neck with it again. "I just want to make you more comfortable. If your fever goes too high I might have to take you to the emergency room."

"Let’s hope no’," said the Scotsman seriously. "I dun’ want tae get stuck again."

Alan chuckled softly. “You really hate needles, don’t you?”

Eric shuddered a little at the subject. “Aye. Silly, I know, but I cannae help it. Wha’s even worse than a shot is getting blood drawn. They just stick it in an’ it stays there while they collect wha’ they need. I cannae stand that.”

"Well, I’ll do my best to bring your temperature down myself so you don’t have to put up with being poked or prodded again," promised Alan. He folded the cool washcloth and pressed it over Eric’s forehead. "Wait here and try to relax. I’ll go and get a thermometer from the medicine cabinet. You do have one, don’t you?"

Eric nodded. “Hardly ever need tae use it, but things like this happen sometimes an’ we can also get sick if we dun’ get enough rest. It’ll be on tha bottom shelf, next tae th’ bandaids.”

"Okay." Alan leaned over to kiss him briefly. "I’ll be right back with it."

He got out of the bed and went into the restroom to fetch the item. Moments later, he returned with it, shaking the mercury down to prep it. “Okay, open up.”

Eric opened his mouth and Alan slipped the thermometer in under his tongue. When he closed his mouth, the brunet took the washcloth and dipped it again, feeling how warm it had gotten from sitting on his skin. He started to bathe Eric’s bare chest with it, avoiding the bandages so as not to get them wet. Eric closed his eyes and hummed softly with pleasure, drawing a smile from the younger reaper.

"Feel good?" guessed Alan. He moved on to the tight abs and his face heated with the realization that he was starting to get turned on. It was embarrassing to him. He was supposed to be nursing his boyfriend, not perving over him.

"Mm-hmm," mumbled the Scotsman, unable to really speak due to the thermometer between his lips. He reached out and began to stroke Alan’s thighs.

Oh, why had he chosen to _straddle_ him while doing this? It was too sensual, and Alan struggled not to let his touch get lewd. He dipped the cloth again and resumed, deciding to pat down Eric’s face and throat again. He was enjoying bathing his torso far too much. His eyes caressed the Scotsman’s chest and stomach, where droplets of water lingered, sparkling on his skin. They evaporated from the heat moments later, and Alan bathed Eric’s torso again to dampen it. Evidence of his arousal began to form a tent in his pajama bottoms and he blushed guiltily as Eric opened his eyes and looked up at him.

"You have a pervert for a partner," sighed Alan, knowing the man could feel the state he was getting into because of the intimate way he was sitting on him.

Eric smirked, running those big hands over his hips. He winked at him and waggled his eyebrows.

"Don’t encourage it," protested Alan, lips twitching. "You’re unwell. What sort of person gets turned on by an ill person?"

Eric chuckled and mumbled around the thermometer. “Nothin’ wrong wi’ it.”

"I beg to differ. I’m supposed to be thinking of lowering your fever." He stroked his fingertips over one of Eric’s nipples, making it tighten. "Not jumping your bones."

"Mmm…no complaints ‘ere," sighed the Scotsman. “‘S no’ like yer mah doctor. Yer mah boyfriend. Certain privileges come wi’ that."

"Stop talking," ordered the brunet—not only because his words were encouraging him to misbehave further, but because he wanted an accurate temperature reading. "You’ve still got the thermometer in your mouth."

Eric chuckled again and lapsed into obedient silence. Alan felt him starting to get hard as well, and it pressed against him firmly. Rhea, why did the man have to be so sexy? He squirmed a bit and leaned forward to dip the cloth and wring it out again. He gave a little start as his partner’s hands crept beneath his cotton pajama top, the calloused palms stroking his ribs and sides.

"Eric, behave," he admonished, even as a thrill swept through him. "You shouldn’t be perving either. You should be resting."

He decided the thermometer had been in his mouth long enough, and he retrieved it as he pressed the cloth against Eric’s forehead.

"I _am_ resting,” observed the blond as Alan held the thermometer up to the light and got a reading. “Haven’t gotten ou’ of bed, have I?”

"Just because you’re in bed doesn’t mean you’re resting," murmured Alan. "Certain…activities people can get up to in bed cause as much strain on the body as running, you know. Hmm, one-hundred point six. That’s not _too_ bad, but I’d rather it not go any higher.”

"Certain things tha’ make people sweat can break a fever faster," suggested Eric with a leer.

Alan tried to keep a straight face. “Well, those things can also put too much strain on your body and make things worse, so we won’t be doing any of them. I don’t want to upset your wounds.”

Eric sighed. “It was worth a try.”

A little smile found its way onto Alan’s face. Eric was difficult enough to resist under regular circumstances, but when he turned on that charm of his he could make a nun blush. At least he seemed to have enough sense not to employ it overtly, while Alan was trying to nurse him. “Just be patient,” advised the brunet. “When you’re better we can do some of those…things.”

In fact, they could do as many of those “things” as Eric wanted. Alan had already been intending to tell him that he was ready to go all the way with him, but the demon attack changed his priorities. Helping Eric recover from it was more important than sleeping with him for the first time.

Alan tended him diligently, staying awake to continue cooling him off even after the Scotsman drifted off to sleep. Finally, sometime between two and three in the morning, Eric broke into a sweat. Sighing with relief that the fever had broken, Alan applied the damp washcloth to his forehead again and he lay down beside him, removing his glasses and shutting off the lamp. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable with his added body heat, the brunet settled for laying one hand on his chest, rather than cuddling up to him.

* * *

 

The sun rose far too quickly and Alan was forced to get up and change for work. The alarm woke his partner up too, and Eric tried to get out of bed to go with him. Alan pushed him down firmly and shook his head. “No sir…you stay right where you are. You aren’t coming into work again until your injuries are healed.”

Eric sighed and relaxed against the pillows, watching him as he went to the mirror to fix his tie. “I feel fine, sweetheart. Jus’ a bit sore. I could prolly come in an’ do paperwork, at least.”

"That’s what I’m going to be doing today, since I have no partner and they won’t allow me to reap alone," Alan remarked. "But I don’t even want you doing that. It’s like the doctor said; rest is the best medicine. I’ll change out your dressing when I get back tonight, and I’ll bring you something to eat so neither of us needs to cook. If the wounds look healed enough tomorrow, maybe you can come in with me for some desk work. Don’t get too excited, though."

He smiled at him through the reflection. “I’m not letting you set foot in that office until I’m sure you’ve recovered enough. Don’t let me find out you did anything foolish like try to exercise or go out while I’m at work, either. If you need anything, call me at work and I’ll bring it to you during my lunch break.”

"Wow, yer strict," observed the Scotsman with a smirk. "Will I get a spankin’ if I disobey?"

Alan turned to look at him. “Maybe.”

"Hmm…maybe I’ll—"

"No, you won’t. Don’t even think about it," Alan said seriously, though he couldn’t resist smiling at him. "If you want a spanking that bad I’ll give you one when you’re better. Don’t go hurting yourself just to satisfy a kink."

Eric’s brows shot up. “Tha’ a promise, lad?” His shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Alan blushed. He couldn’t tell if Eric was serious about the spanking or if he was just teasing him. “Just behave yourself,” he finally said, flustered. “If I finish my paperwork quickly enough, I may be able to clock out early. I’ll see you when I get back.”

* * *

 

"Oh Humphries, darling, I have more files for you," Grell sang out as he walked into the office that Alan was now sharing with his partner.

Alan sighed as the small pile was placed on his desk. “Thank you,” he said politely—though he was anything but grateful. He’d thought he might get out of work earlier than anticipated, but now he could end up staying the full day.

"You look disconcerted," observed Grell, and the Crimson reaper hopped up on the edge of Alan’s desk and crossed his legs. "How is your handsome partner doing, hmm? I hear some naughty spider demon carved its mark in that gorgeous chest of his."

Alan was about to ask him how _he_ knew what Eric’s chest looked like, but then he recalled the field trip to the beach. Everyone in Dispatch knew what his partner’s body looked like, save what little his swimming briefs had concealed. “It was more his ribs than his chest,” corrected Alan, “and he’s recovering nicely. It should be healed by the end of the week.”

"It’s a good thing it wasn’t a scythe injury," sighed Grell. "What a pity that would have been; scars on that hunky, toned—"

"Yes, it would have been a pity," interrupted Alan, his face heating. He needed to change the subject. Hearing Grell discuss Eric’s attributes made him think of how he’d looked in that yellow pair of swimmers that day, and it also made him feel territorial. Sutcliff was known for going on about men he found attractive, though, and that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.

"How have collections been going today?"

"Tedious," sighed the redhead. "With both you _and_ Eric off the field, my work load has doubled. I really don’t care for the partner they’ve assigned me to, either. The man’s all business and he isn’t even all that handsome! If they’re going to pin me with such a serious fellow, they can at least make sure he’s nice to look at. I would much rather be paired up with our handsome William, for example.”

Grell’s eyes softened and he sighed dramatically, a dreamy expression coming over his effeminate face. “Ah, William T. Spears. So cold, that one, but so beautiful. I could gaze at him for hours and never grow tired of it.”

He hugged himself and wriggled, leaving Alan to wonder if he might soon work himself into a nosebleed. At least Grell seemed to have forgotten all about Eric. Alan made a mental note of that. The next time Sutcliff started raving about Eric’s looks, all he needed to do was mention Spears’ name to distract him from the subject. He smiled a little and he started going through his files.

"If you like him that much, why not talk to him about it? Maybe if he knows how you feel, he might surprise you."

Grell sighed and shook his head. “He already knows. I made no secret of it from the day he so brutally conquered me up ‘till now. Surely he knows we are fated to be together, and yet he resists! Stubborn, perfect, handsome man. Why must the ones I adore always be so unobtainable?”

Alan resisted a sigh. Hearing about the senior officer’s romantic frustrations wasn’t really his idea of productive conversation, but at least Grell had stopped talking about Eric. “Things might change eventually. I don’t pretend to know whether Spears prefers the company of men or women, but—”

"But I’m both!" insisted Grell, hopping off the table and twirling around with his hands on his hips. "The best of both worlds, wouldn’t you say? This body may be male, but I’m a lady on the inside."

"W-well, maybe he just doesn’t know how to treat you, then," Alan said hastily, worried he’d inadvertently offended Grell. "You’re…unique. Maybe that intimidates him."

Gods, he wished this conversation would end.

"It isn’t _that_ complex,” sighed Grell. “All he has to do is behave as any gentleman would, when courting a lady. Open doors for me, bring me flowers…take me somewhere nice to eat. I would reward him for such dashing behavior if only he would bestow it upon me!”

Alan covertly rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “Have you tried just asking him out?”

"And come off desperate?" scoffed the crimson reaper. "A lady _never_ asks the man for the first date, Alan.”

The brunet almost reminded him that a lady wouldn’t usually throw herself at men the way Grell did, either…but he didn’t want to start an argument. “I’m sorry,” he offered instead. “I’m really not the best person to offer romantic advice.”

"But you bagged that hottie Slingby," reminded Grell, looking him over appraisingly, "so there must be _some_ tricks up your cute little sleeve.”

"Actually, Eric bagged me," admitted the younger reaper, "not the other way around. He made the first move. I was horribly clumsy and really, I still am. You know more about romance than I do."

Grell sighed in disappointment. “Everyone is finding love except for me. Well, I shall leave you to your paperwork, so that you can finish and go home to your wounded hunk. Appreciate what you have, Humphries.”

Alan smiled in spite of himself. “I do. Believe me.”

* * *

 

Alan did manage to finish up an hour early, and he got permission from William to clock out prematurely so that he could return to Eric’s apartment and look after him. He took a cab—even though his boyfriend had told him he could drive his car to and from work if he wanted to. The thought of doing so by himself made Alan nervous. Eric had taught him how to drive and went with him to get his license, and he was a good, cautious driver; but Alan didn’t trust other motorists. He would never forgive himself if Eric’s sleek jaguar got so much as a scratch while he was driving it.

He stopped at Eric’s favorite burger joint to pick up dinner; though he had his doubts that fast food was the best thing for his recovering partner to have as a meal. When he made it into the apartment, he found Eric in the living room, watching something on television. It didn’t surprise him to find it was a car race. He sighed, smiling softly as he put the food on the table and joined him on the couch. Eric was in a robe and his hair was slightly damp as if it had recently been washed.

"Welcome back," Eric said, shooting him a grin. "How was yer first day wi’out me?"

"Long," admitted Alan. "You’re supposed to be in bed…and I hope you were careful not to get your bandaging wet if you took a shower."

"I’m still relaxing," protested Eric, gesturing down at his sprawled form. "See? Tha couch is jus’ as good as tha bed. Dun’ worry ‘bout tha shower, love. I took a sponge bath an’ washed mah hair in tha sink."

Alan gave up arguing with him, and he kissed him softly. “Well, I brought food from Charlie’s burger grill. Are you hungry?”

"I could eat, yeah. Thanks fer picking it up."

"It’s nothing." Alan smiled. "I still haven’t taken you on a proper date yet, but I plan to treat you to something better than a hamburger when you’ve recovered."

"Oh yeah?" The Scotsman grinned at him. "Ye’ve piqued mah interest."

Realizing how it had come out sounding, Alan flushed. “I was thinking a movie or even the racetrack,” he quickly explained. In truth though, he’d been prepared to offer himself to him. It wasn’t too soon in their relationship, was it? He’d known him for longer than most couples knew each other before having sex, after all, and they were both adults.

Eric chuckled. “Look at him blush. I love it.” He cupped Alan’s chin and gave him another kiss. “How ‘bout we have dinner an’ watch tha news, eh? Then I can show mah gratitude fer tha way ye’ve taken care of me.”

Thinking of the way Eric had rubbed him off that night when they first started dating, Alan flushed brighter. They’d made out plenty of times since then, exploring each other’s bodies but never going much further than that. He _still_ hadn’t had the opportunity to see or touch Eric’s…stuff. Groping was all well and good, but he wanted more.

"What were you planning to do?" he questioned, again suffering an attack of shyness.

Eric winked at him and he leaned in to murmur into his ear. “Ye’ll see, sweetheart.”

A shiver of desire passed through Alan and he sighed before getting up to retrieve the food he’d brought home.

* * *

 

After having their meal, Eric immediately began to make out with him. Despite Alan’s protests that he might upset his injuries, the Scotsman rolled onto him. He was still in his robe, and it gaped open at the chest to reveal a tantalizing amount of skin. Alan found himself caressing those pecs rather than trying to push his partner off, and he moaned in spite of himself when he felt the evidence of the man’s desire pressing against his thigh. He was naked under that robe. The realization only made it hotter, and before he knew what he was doing, the brunet started fumbling with the belt of the garment.

"Want to see you," he pleaded between kisses.

In a similar breathless state, Eric lifted up a little to make it easier for him. The material parted and Alan looked down immediately to feast his eyes on his body. He stared at the Scotsman’s proudly jutting arousal, framed by a pattern of dark golden hair. He’d known his boyfriend was well-endowed by the way he filled his hand when he cupped him through his pants, but now that he saw it revealed to him, he gulped.

"Can…can I…?" He began to reach for it, eyes flicking back to Eric’s face questioningly. He didn’t know why he was asking; it wasn’t like he hadn’t felt him up before…just never while it was completely exposed before.

"Aye, ye can touch it," permitted Eric with a smile. "Ya know ye can, Alan."

"Yes, but…I didn’t want to be rude."

That made Eric laugh. “Tha’ ne’er stopped ya from havin’ a feel before. Ye dun’ have tae worry about…oh…mm, tha’s nice.” He lost track of whatever he’d been about to say when Alan’s fingers curled around the warm, firm length of his erection and stroked it slowly. His amusement faded abruptly and he lowered his mouth to Alan’s for a kiss. He pushed into his grip, making more of those sensual, lusty sounds in his throat as the smaller reaper gained more confidence in his touch.

"Well, now I know how to make you hush," teased Alan.

Eric looked so handsome right now, with that expression of pleasure on his face. He stroked his thumb over the tip of his shaft, drawing a little shiver from him and making it twitch a bit in his hand. The Scotsman’s hand began to fumble with Alan’s pants, popping the button and dragging the zipper down. Breath quickening, Alan began to undulate eagerly beneath him as his partner unfastened his trousers and reached into them. He bit his lip as that experienced hand slipped into his underwear and eased his erection out.

"Now I think I’d like tae give ye a treat," murmured Eric huskily, looking down at his exposed endowments admiringly.

Alan protested softly as the Scotsman pulled out of his gripping hand to scoot down on the couch. He found it hard to maintain his frustration though, because Eric was now stroking his naked arousal steadily. The facial hair that he’d grown back out on his chin again tickled his skin pleasantly as he kissed his way down his torso. His intentions became obvious to Alan when his breath sighed over the tip of his excited member. He looked down and parted his lips, right as Eric took him into his mouth.

"Ah—!" Alan’s head fell back against the armrest of the couch, his eyes going wide with shock at the sensation of his partner’s lips sliding down over his length. "Oh…Eric!"

He had literally nothing else to say after that, and the Scotsman demonstrated that kissing wasn’t the only thing he could do with his mouth to make a person weak and breathless.

* * *

 

Alan was entirely too distracted the next day. He kept thinking of the things Eric had done to him with that tongue and those lips the night before, and it drove him to distraction at work. Eric came back to work with him that morning, but he’d be stuck doing deskwork for a few days while the injuries he’d sustained by the demon finished healing. In the meantime, Alan was paired up with Grell as a temporary partner. He came back from his reaping assignments and as soon as Eric looked up at him from the documents he’d been going over, the brunet’s face darkened with a blush.

"Ye’ve been doing tha’ a lot today," remarked the Scotsman with a grin. "Somethin’ on yer mind, partner?"

_~Yes. Your tongue, your lips, your voice, your hair…oh Rhea, why can’t I stop this?~_

Alan cleared his throat. “I think you know what’s on my mind.”

Eric chuckled. “Dun’ worry. I won’t tell anyone wha’ a screamer ye are.”

Alan’s eyes widened. “ _Eric!_ ”

Eric spread his hands and tried to look innocent. “Wha’? Nothin’ wrong wi’ being vocal wi’ yer lover.”

Alan bit his lip and glanced at the door. “You’re awful, do you know that?”

"I cannae flirt wi’ mah own boyfriend?" Eric covered his mouth to contain his laughter, his shoulders shaking with amusement.

"We are on the clock," reminded Alan. "And I’m already too distracted as it is. Sutcliff got onto me twice while we were out in the field today."

"But I was nowhere near ya," protested Eric, sobering a little. "All kidding aside, ya need tae focus when yer on tha field. It’s one thing tae mess up a bit of paperwork but reaping’s different."

"I know," sighed Alan, lowering his gaze. "It’s just…nobody’s ever…um…done that to me before and it was still fresh on my mind when we came in to work this morning."

He walked over to Eric’s desk and circled around behind it, boldly leaning over the older reaper to embrace him from behind. He kissed Eric on the cheek and sighed. “And I still didn’t get much of a chance to do my own playing, you know.”

Eric smirked and rested one hand over Alan’s, flipping the pages of his paperwork. “I dinnae hear many complaints, love.” He turned his head to kiss him on the lips. “Maybe I ought tae start doing it to ya every night, so ya can get used to it an’ no’ be so distracted tha next day.”

Alan looked at him with alarm that wasn’t entirely feigned. “If you do that to me every night, I’ll never get anything productive done.”

Eric chuckled. “Then maybe I should keep it tame ‘till the weekends, hard as it is tae resist making ya blush an’ cry my name like tha’.”

His words alone were making Alan blush just fine. The brunet sighed and laid his head against Eric’s. “I’m going to get you back for that eventually.”

"I’m counting on tha’," assured Eric with another wink.

* * *

 

Unfortunately, Alan neither got the chance to “pay Eric back” nor take him on the date he’d been wanting to treat him to—which also meant he didn’t get the opportunity to go all the way with him afterwards, as planned. To his shock and dismay, the Scotsman received notice that his allotted time in England was up, and he would have to return to Scotland.

Alan was devastated when he got the news. “But you’ve been here for a _year_ now!”

Eric sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Sorry, Alan. I forgot I only put in fer a year when I signed up tae be transferred tae London branch. I figured I wouldnae want tae stay here longer than tha’, but then I met ya and I’ve changed my mind. I’ve put off goin’ back an’ I overstayed mah time limit. I’ve go’ no choice but tae go back an’ put in for a permanent transfer, or at least ano’er year.”

"But why can’t you just stay here while they fix it?" demanded the brunet. "What’s the sense in making you go back to Scotland? Can’t you just send the paperwork off and stay in England?"

Eric put his arms around him and held him close. “‘Cause I’m no’ legally allowed tae stay in this branch longer than mah transfer allows it,” he tried to explain. “I could get fined or worse if I dun’ have tha righ’ paperwork, so I’ll have tae go back an’ go through tha process again. This time, I’ll make sure they put me down fer tha permanent transfer, if they can.”

Alan sighed and rested his cheek against the taller man’s chest, listening to the comforting thump of his heartbeat. “It isn’t fair,” he murmured. “You’ve built a life here. You went through all the trouble of transporting your furniture…and you have me.”

"Furniture isn’t such a big deal," answered the Scotsman. "All I had tae do was pay a moving company tae portal right tae th’ apartment an’ bring it in. I dun’ even need tae do tha’ this time, though. I plan tae come back, Alan. Tha only thing I wish I could take wi’ me is you."

He pulled back a little to gaze down at the smaller reaper, and he brushed his thumb over the pouting lower lip. “I’ll pay up mah rent an’ utilities fer a couple of months. Shouldn’t take longer than tha’, if I’m lucky. Would ya stay here while I’m gone an’ watch tha place? I’ve go’ room in tha closet fer some clothes, an’ I can clear out a drawer fer ya too. Bring wha’ever ya want from yer place an’ make yerself at home.”

Alan closed his eyes and nodded. “What if it takes longer than two months?”

"Then I’ll send money for more rent an’ utilities." Eric took his hands and squeezed them. "I _will_ be comin’ back, Al. Tha’s a promise. I dun care if they can only give me ano’er year. If I have tae do this every bloody year so I can stay, then tha’s wha’ I’ll do.”

Alan nodded, trying not to let himself get worked up into an emotional state that would do neither of them any good. “When do you have to leave?”

Eric grimaced. “As soon as I can pack up an’ go. Like I said; I put off leaving an’ now I’m out of time.”

A rare curse formed on Alan’s lips. “You should have told me.”

"I know." The Scotsman nodded. "I tried tae arrange it so that I could take care of it wi’out having tae leave tha country, but they notified me today it cannae be done. I’m sorry, Alan. I really thought it could be done while I’m still in England, but it looks like I’d be violating tha terms of tha transfer if I dun’ go back."

The brunet swallowed, wondering what he would do without his partner’s affection and guidance for two months or longer. He took a steadying breath, reminding himself that he was a grown reaper and was perfectly capable of functioning without Eric at his side, if he had to. “What else do you need me to do while you’re away? I’ll clean once a week, of course, and I’ll help pay for utilities, since I’ll be using them.”

"Dun’ worry ‘bout tha utilities," insisted Eric. "I can pay those o’er tha phone or computer. I’d like it if ye’d crank my bike every few days an’ drive my car so tha engines don’t die while I’m away."

Alan’s eyes widened. “D-drive your car?”

Eric chuckled. “Sure, why no’? Yer a more cautious driver than I am an’ ye’ve got no vehicle of yer own, yet. No reason fer ye tae take a bus or a taxi tae work everyday when there’s a car available fer ye tae drive.”

"Oh, I don’t know," Alan said hesitantly. "I would feel really awful if anything happened to it while I’m driving, even if it’s someone else’s fault."

"If someone else hits ya then it’s on them, no’ you." Eric smiled and embraced him again. "I trust ye, Alan. Yer about tha only person I’d trust tae drive mah car."

Alan nodded and laid his cheek against his chest again, wishing to the core of his being that he could go with him to Scotland. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

"An’ I you." Eric kissed the crown of his head. "I’ll call ya every week an get ya somethin’ special while I’m away. I jus’ want tae get this o’er wi’ so I can come back to ya sooner."

Alan nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. They just held each other for a while, until Eric finally had to let go of him and get to packing. Alan helped him and when he was finished, he went with him to Headquarters so that he could take the portal to the Edinburgh branch. Fortunately there weren’t many people around the transit area, but even if there were, Alan wouldn’t have stopped him when he pulled him into his embrace once more for a deep goodbye kiss.

"Call me tomorrow," pleaded Alan as he watched his partner lift his suitcase and step towards the portal.

Eric paused and looked back at him, gave him one of those crooked, engaging smiles and saluted him with two fingers. “Will do, sweetheart. Try tae get plenty of sleep t’night.”

And then he was gone. Alan heaved a sigh and looked around forlornly. Two months. He wasn’t going to see Eric again for at least two months. He predicted that he would need to keep himself very occupied at work to take his mind off of that.

"You can do this, Alan," he mumbled as he checked his keys and left the portal transit. First, he would stop by his small apartment and get some clothes and basics and then he would go back to Eric’s place. Maybe he could find a movie or something to watch before bed…something that wouldn’t remind him of Eric.

* * *

 

\- To be continued 


	7. Chapter 7

While Eric was away, Alan was assigned to reap with Grell. He learned that the redhead usually went out on his own to do reapings; a thing which only senior officers were permitted to do these days. Grell didn’t seem to mind him joining him on the field, but he warned him to keep up or be left behind.

"I don’t have time to indulge your moping," instructed the crimson reaper, "so perk up and stay alert."

"I’m not ‘moping’," protested Alan. When Grell raised a brow at him, he sighed. "Much."

Grell smiled sharply at him and checked his watch. Seeing that they had time before their first scheduled reaping of the day, he leaned against the wall of the flower shop they were standing outside of and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Darling, I can hardly blame you for wanting to be at your man’s side. Slingby is a treat to the eyes and ears, with that body and that accent of his—no matter how rough others may find it. I for one don’t understand why he tries to temper it.” He waved a gloved hand. “But I find it more exotic than tedious. Regardless, if you don’t learn to stand on your own two feet, that man will run you over.”

He smirked at him. “They always do. The moment you show weakness, they take advantage and the next thing you know, you’re a fawning nincompoop and they’ve lost all respect for you.”

He frowned, and it became obvious to Alan that he was talking as much about himself and William as he was about he and Eric. “Don’t allow that to happen, Humphries. Show him what a strong, capable reaper you can be while he’s absent. Love him all you like, but don’t define yourself by him. If you lose yourself in him completely then you’ll forever be half the Shinigami you could be, and he may just get bored with you.”

Alan wanted to say Eric would never do that, but then he thought of how strong and capable the blond was, and he wondered how he could ever stay interested in a partner that couldn’t do anything without him at his side. The man had plenty of alternatives to choose from if he ever decided Alan just wasn’t cutting it as an ideal partner and lover. He nodded and squared his shoulders. “All right. Maybe you can help me become a bit more…self-confident.”

"It isn’t truly something I can teach," advised the redhead, "but have no doubt I’ll lecture you if I see you slipping into the habits of a weakling."

Alan nodded again, not doubting that in the slightest. Grell had already demonstrated that he had no qualms about picking apart others’ performance, and he really didn’t seem to care whose feelings he hurt.

* * *

 

While his partner tried to adjust to life without him and find his own way as a Dispatch agent, Eric took up residency in reaper Edinburgh. Since his old apartment was now occupied with a new tenant, he had to accept temporary accommodations at the academy, in one of the instructor residencies. It wasn’t too bad; smaller than his London apartment but cozy enough for him. He emailed his partner each day, and he called him on weekends to check up on him. Sometimes they chatted all through the night, until the sun was coming up. One night he’d actually tucked Alan into bed over the phone—which was amusing, to say the least. He could tell he was nodding off and he ordered him to climb into bed and go to sleep. He even sang him a Scottish lullaby one Saturday, and when he heard his soft snoring he ended the call with an aching little smile.

Oh, how he wished he could be there to tuck him in personally.

Reaping in Scotland was a bit different from reaping in England. Edinburgh dispatch ran things more casually than London did. As long as assignments were completed by the end of the day and the proper reports were filed, there was no set time limits on collection hand-ins. Uniform standards were looser, as well. Eric didn’t have to worry so much about any creases or wrinkles drawing negative attention to him. Most of his fellow Scots didn’t even bother wearing ties to work. Some of them even came in wearing kilts rather than pants.

And for the first time ever, he felt out of place in his own country. He worried so much about his English coworkers having trouble understanding his accent, but he found that compared to his countrymen, his had become rather…tame. Even his Gaelic had gotten a bit rusty in his time away, and his associates informed him that he had a slight foreign accent when he spoke the mother tongue.

"So wha’s in England tha’s sae bloody important?" asked Killian Foster at lunch one day, a couple of weeks after Eric’s arrival. "Ye dinnae even want tae go there, when they asked ye tae consider transferring. Now I here ye’ve moved all yer things there an want tae go back permanently?"

Eric smirked and cut into his sausage. True, he’d been none too thrilled, but it was considered an honor to go to London as a representative of his native dispatch branch. He looked at the ginger reaper sitting across from him and he shrugged. “Mah partner.”

Killian’s ginger brows shot up. “An English partner? Bah…Jus’ say tha word an’ _I’ll_ be yer partner again…jus’ like old times! Ya dun’ need some fancy lil’ peacock reapin’ wi’ ya.”

"He’s no’ like tha others," excused Eric. "He’s no’ stuck up or ‘fancy’ at all. He’s a good reaper wi’ a good, compassionate heart."

Killian snorted. “Compassionate? He’s in tha wrong career, then.”

He then seemed to catch on to the smitten tone of Eric’s voice, and he blinked at him. “Oh. Ohhh, he’s _tha’_ sort o’ partner, then.”

Eric chuckled and took a bite of his sausage, nodding.

The ginger sighed. “Figures. Tha only reason I could see ya wantin’ tae stay in tha’ place fer an English is if they’re good in tha sack. Sort o’ thought it’d be a woman, though. Ya tend tae chase tha skirts more ‘n tha trousers, lad.”

Eric smirked. “‘round here tha’ could go fer anyone.” He gave a pointed glance at one of their associates, who was just sitting down to lunch. The brunet was wearing a green and black plaid kilt.

"Kilts aren’t skirts," corrected Killian. "But ya knew wha’ I meant."

"Aye, I knew wha’ ya meant," agreed the blond. He shrugged. "Wha’ can I say? Tha lad started out as mah trainee, then when he graduated from academy they assigned him as mah partner. Tha rest just fell intae place by tha end of mah transfer year an’ now I want tae stay there wi’ him."

The other Scotsman snorted again. “Mus’ be _really_ good in tha sack, then.”

Eric just smiled and shrugged, forking up some mash.

Killian blinked at him. “Sae he’s _no’_ good in tha sack?”

The blond chuckled. “Hasnae gone tha’ far yet.”

Now the redhead looked astonished. He wiped his mustache off with his napkin and sputtered: “Ye havenae even slept wi’ him yet?”

Eric shook his head. “No’ tha way _ya_ mean, nah.”

Killian muttered something about the gods in Gaelic, before responding in English. “Wha’ tha _hell_ have they done tae ya, man? Ya mean tae tell me tha tomcat o’ Edinburgh is committed tae a reaper he hasnae even _foocked_ yet?”

Eric glanced around, feeling his face heating as his former partner’s exclamation attracted some attention from other reapers in the cafeteria. “Say it a lil’ louder,” he muttered, “I dun’ think tha table at tha back quite heard ya.”

Killian obligingly lowered his voice. “Jus’ surprises tha shite outta me, is all. I’ve never known ye tae stick wi’ anyone fer long if they weren’t givin’ ye a little action in tha sack. Has he at least sucked ye off?”

Eric shook his head and took a drink of his root beer. He wasn’t about to divulge details about other things Alan had done with him.

"Then how do ya know it’s worth tha effort o’ tryin’ tae get a permanent transfer?" demanded the ginger. "Plenty o’ lads an’ lasses here would be happy tae see tae yer needs."

Eric forked up more mash. “Basic flesh needs aren’t such a big deal tae me anymore…no’ after gettin’ involved wi’ this reaper. I think I’m ready fer somethin’ more than tha’.”

Killian was staring at him like he’s just announced he was having a sex change. Eric chuckled under his breath at the man, amused. “Is tha’ so hard tae imagine? Me settlin’ down wi’ tha right person?”

"Fer _ye_ , aye,” said the ginger without missing a beat. “Ne’er though’ I’d see tha day ye’d go exclusive…an’ wi’ an _Englishman_ , of all people. I need tae see wha’ this lad looks like. He’s go’ tae be a cock’s dream, tae have ya sae enamored!”

Eric had been around British reapers for so long, he’d almost forgotten how crude his countrymen could be. He laughed and shook his head. Lugh, he’d missed Scottish candor. He swallowed his mash and he dug out his wallet to show his friend the copy of the academy photo of Alan he kept in there. “Here,” he offered, turning the wallet around to show him the image tucked safely in the protective plastic of the picture holder insert. “Tha’s Alan.”

Killian looked at the young man in the picture curiously. He wasn’t interested in men himself, but he could tell a looker when he spotted one. He nodded and grinned. “Cute lad. Figures it’d be a pretty boy, tae hold yer attention like this.”

Eric smiled at the picture before closing his wallet and tucking it away again. “It’s no’ jus’ his looks. He’s a real sweetheart…cute as can be in every way.”

"Gods help us," sighed Killian. "Slingby’s in love. Tha world’s abou’ tae end."

The blond chuckled again and speared up a bite of sausage. “Happens tae most reapers, sooner or later. Ya could be next.”

"Sae yer no’ denying yer in love wi’ him?"

Eric shrugged and ate the piece of sausage on his fork. The answer to that question was pretty obvious, as far as he was concerned.

* * *

 

Another couple of weeks passed, and though the ache of missing his partner didn’t truly fade, it got a bit easier for Alan to distract himself with work. The speed and efficiency of his reaping increased, and the sympathy pangs for his marks decreased as Eric promised they would, over time. He could never imagine himself completely lacking sympathy for the mortals, but he finally stopped having nightmares about every other reaping he did.

He was getting more used to Grell, too. The redhead was even more impulsive than Eric, and he cut into his reaping targets with a zeal that Alan found faintly troubling. Still, he was amusing at times and the brunet began to figure out how to handle him better when he went off on one of his romantic tangents about Director Spears. Being so head-over-heels for Eric, he could empathize with his infatuation, and he felt a little sorry for him. How painful it must be for someone to be that deeply in love, only to have the object of their affection snub them on a regular basis.

"Have you ever thought of looking elsewhere for romantic attention?" he asked Grell one day as they finished up their last reaping assignment and walked to the Great Library together.

The crimson reaper sighed and rubbed his arms, his red-painted fingernails absently fiddling with the sleeve garters around his biceps. “Of course I have, but I’m afraid there are none in this life that can compare with the cold beauty of my Willykins. He is my frozen Romeo…the only man who could possibly tame my burning heart.”

Alan looked away and pretended to cough, because he feared he might laugh at Grell’s melodrama and that would be cruel of him. While Mr. Spears was certainly a handsome, dashing fellow, he had trouble understanding how someone as wild as Grell could possibly be drawn to his stoic perfectionism. Then again, differences could make excellent sparks. He and Eric had nothing in common personality-wise, and yet he’d never felt such passion for anyone else in his life.

"Well, I hope one day things go your way," he offered solicitously, "or you eventually find someone else that can make you happy."

Grell ruffled his hair and grinned at him. “Aren’t you a sweet one. It’s really no wonder that Gaelic hunk is so enamored with you.”

Alan smiled in return. “I’m not always sweet, though. I’ve got my pushy moments too…mostly when Eric’s trying to do something stupid.”

The redhead laughed. “And I’m sure he does that often. There once was a time I considered pursuing him, to be honest with you. He’s one of the only reapers in Dispatch whose wildness almost matches mine, and I adore a powerful man that isn’t afraid to put me in my place.”

He sighed. “Sadly, I’m also terribly jealous. Slingby gets too much attention from _both_ genders and I’m afraid I would have ended up reaping his admirers out of sheer rage for their audacity. You are amazingly patient. I would never put up with people eyeballing my man like a dessert they want to eat up.”

"I’m not _that_ patient,” admitted Alan with a little blush. “Reaping people for looking at him would be overkill, but I do get possessive when I notice their attention. You don’t worry about the same happening with William, if you two were to get together?”

Grell snorted. “People are too intimidated by Chilly Willy to flirt with or stare at him openly, darling. A cold glare alone from that man is enough to make most reapers stop in their tracks and cringe.”

He shivered with delight and rubbed his arms. “Oh, that perfect, freezing glare of his…”

Alan resisted a sigh as Grell began to compare William’s eyes to the cold arctic wind. He rather wished Spears would give the redhead the attention he craved, just so he’d stop going on about him all the time. Well, he’d asked for it when he inquired as to whether Grell had any other romantic interests, didn’t he?

_~I miss Eric.~_

* * *

 

"I’m sorry Mr. Slingby," said the British exchange director when he called and inquired about his application. "It is still being processed. It may take up to ten more working days before your request has been fully reviewed. I realize this is an inconvenience to you, but we must do everything by the book."

Eric sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Figured as much. No harm in askin’ though, right?” He looked out his window at the rainy, dreary landscape. Scotland could be beautiful at times and depressing at others. He kept his accent tame as he spoke further with the man, though his line of work probably required he understand a variety of dialects. “Tell me, what are the odds of getting a permanent transfer? I know a couple of reapers from Ireland that managed to get one here, but that’s practically a sister country to Scotland.”

"I’m afraid I cannot say," answered the Brit apologetically. "Each case is individual, you see. They will look at your record with London Dispatch, and the higher your work approval rating is, the better your chances of being granted a permanent transfer. Otherwise you may request another year and may be eligible to try again after that year is up."

Eric grimaced in frustration. He supposed a year pass was better than three to six months, but he hated the thought of having to go through this again. He finally felt like he’d started a life he could enjoy, despite his initial feelings on the location. He’d made new friends in England and though the adjustment period was a bit rough at first, he was comfortable with the life he’d built there. Visiting his homeland was always nice, but he didn’t really feel like he belonged in Scotland anymore.

"A’right, thanks for tha help," he said, his accent thickening a bit with his frustration. "Guess I’ll check back in a week if I don’t hear anything back from ya."

He hung up the phone and he went to the dining table to finish reading the local newspaper. He got about midway through the world news section when his phone rang. Picking it back up and seeing that it was from Dispatch headquarters, he sighed. Wonderful. Now watch them tell him there was some sort of error with his application, or call him in to work on his one day off.

"Slingby," he said when he answered the call.

"Officer Slingby, there’s been an…accident," informed the Scottish Dispatch supervisor. "Ya need tae come in righ’ away. It’s important, lad."

Eric’s heart leaped in his throat, his thoughts immediately going to his partner in London. “Wha’s happened?” he demanded, slowly standing up.

_~Please be a’right, Alan. If anythin’s happened tae ye, I dunno wha’ I’ll do wi’ mahself.~_

"It’s yer partner," answered Supervisor McKinley. "Yer _former_ partner, tha’ is.”

Eric frowned, unable to feel any relief. “Killian? Wha’ happened tae him?”

"It was a demon attack," answered the supervisor. "Ye’d better come in, Slingby. It’s no’ lookin’ good fer him."

Eric compressed his lips grimly. “I’ll be righ’ there.”

He hung up the phone and he hurried out the door.

* * *

 

Eric arrived around ten minutes later, only to find that Killian had already passed from his injuries. He stood over the body of his friend in shock, unable to look away from the terrible injuries that were only partially visible to view. They had covered him up when he stopped breathing, and mutual friends informed Eric that they’d already collected his cinematic records for the reaper vaults. Evidently the creature responsible for this had tortured him before finally being driven off by local Shinigami agents that happened upon the scene. It had disemboweled him…slowly. His dying cries had been what alerted the team that found him, and he only lasted for a short time after Eric was notified, before his heart gave out.

"Any identification o’ what sort o’ demon did this?" whispered Eric past a tight throat. They’d closed Killian’s eyes and the one blessing about this tragedy was that his features were at peace. Death had been as a friend to him, in the end.

"It was a scorpion breed," answered one of the two officers that had found and attempted to save Killian. "Rare ‘round these parts."

McKinley put a comforting hand on Eric’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “He fought tae th’ end, lad. Officer Foster will be cremated wi’ highest honors, an’ he’ll get a plaque in tha Great Hall, beside all tha other exceptional agents tha’ came before ‘im.”

Eric closed his eyes and nodded, swallowing. He laid a hand over his former partner’s still chest, and he whispered his regrets to his empty shell. “I’m sae sorry, Ian. I should’a partnered up wi’ ya while I was here.”

"This wasnae yer fault, lad," said the supervisor sternly, "an’ he’d ne’er stand fer ya thinkin’ o’erwise, sae get tha’ notion out o’ yer head."

His words of comfort did little to quell the guilt in the blond’s heart. “‘Scuse me,” he said, hardly aware of what he was saying. “I’ve go’ tae make a call.”

He left the morgue and went outside to light a clove, taking a deep, calming drag from it before dialing his partner in London. After a few rings, Alan picked up and just hearing his voice had a much-needed soothing effect on Eric.

"Eric?" said the brunet’s sweet voice, laced with excitement. He always sounded so happy to hear from him.

"Aye." It was all the blond could force past his lips at the moment. He swallowed and took a shaken breath. "I…needed tae hear yer voice."

"Is something wrong?" Alan’s tone became worried, and Eric could easily imagine the concern on his sculpted features. "Your voice sounds odd."

Eric swallowed again and shook his head, his eyes burning. The tears wouldn’t come, though. “Jus’ go’ out of tha morgue. A…an old friend o’ mine was killed. Demon attack. It…it tortured him, Al…tore his guts out an’ played wi’ ‘em while he lay there dyin’. I cannae…stop picturin’ it.”

"Oh, Rhea! Eric…I’m so sorry! Are…are you hurt? Were you there?"

"I’m fine," lied the Scotsman. He _wasn’t_ fine by any stretch of the definition, but his partner had meant physically. “I wasnae there. Tha agents tha’ heard his screams told me wha’ happened. They drove tha demon off, but it was too late. Now he’s dead an’ tha filth tha’ did it go’ away. I…I wanna find it, Alan. I’ll hunt it down an’ make it suffer like mah friend did!” He clenched the hand holding his cigarette in a fist, hardly aware of the smoking object between his fingers.

"Shh, calm down," Alan gently advised. "Eric, please don’t do anything rash. You’re grieving and angry, and that’s normal. Don’t rush off half-cocked without at least taking time to come up with a plan…I’m begging you. You can’t change anything by getting yourself killed, and you’re not going to be able to avenge him if you die too."

Eric closed his eyes and took a few shuddering breaths, trying to see through the haze of grief and fury. “I cannae make any promises.”

"Please, for me, if not for yourself? Just wait. That’s all I ask of you. Lay your friend’s body to rest and give yourself a few days to grieve. If you go and die on me then I’ll have to come there and avenge you. It’s a vicious cycle."

Eric managed a broken little laugh, though he knew Alan wasn’t trying to be funny. “Can’t have ya chasin’ all o’er Scotland looking fer revenge, can I?” He combed his fingers through his loose hair, feeling suddenly drained. “Ah, Humphries, I’d give anythin’ tae jus’…look at ye righ’ about now. I dun’ even wanna see anyone else…jus’ you.”

Alan drew a shuddering breath, and Eric could tell he was getting choked up. He caressed the phone, wishing his partner were there so that he might wipe away his tears. “Dun cry, sweetheart. I promise no’ tae get mahself killed.”

"I’m just…so sorry," said Alan in a helpless little voice. "I love you, Eric. I want you to do one other thing for me."

"Wha’s tha’?"

"Cry," said Alan simply. "Don’t try to be tough; just let it out. You need to."

Eric took another drag of his clove. “Dunno if I can righ’ now, Alan. If I break down, I won’t be able tae stop. I need tae hold it together fer jus’ a little while longer.”

Alan sighed. “I understand if you don’t want to do it in public. Just promise me you won’t keep it bottled up. Find a restroom if you feel it building up in public, or go to your rental car. Just don’t hold it back.”

Eric nodded. “I’ll…try.” He heaved another sigh and he took another drag of his cigarette. “I’d better look in tae funeral plans an’ see wha’ I can do tae help. I miss ya, partner, an’ I love ye too.”

"Keep me updated," requested Alan. "Goodbye."

* * *

 

William huffed in annoyance when someone knocked on his office door. Bad enough that he was working on a weekend again, but he kept getting interrupted. “Enter.”

Alan Humphries walked in, shutting the door behind him. He gave a little bow of respect to the Dispatch supervisor, and his youthful features were troubled as he approached. “Mr. Spears, sir, I know this is a terrible time to be asking for any favors, but I have a request. I wouldn’t make it if it weren’t very important, sir.”

The supervisor checked a sigh. “What is it, Mr. Humphries?”

"I would like a week off to visit Scotland."

William raised a brow. It wasn’t difficult for him to guess the reason behind the request. Humphries and Slingby were closer than any partnered reapers he’d seen yet. “I see. You have only been a junior officer for little more than a week, and while your conduct and work ethic have been nearly impeccable, it’s a bit soon to be requesting a vacation.” He smirked without humor. “I myself have not enjoyed a holiday for well over ten years.”

Alan nodded. “I understand, sir. I only ask because I believe there are mitigating circumstances. I would never expect for exceptions to be made for me, but this is about my partner.”

"Slingby? Has something occurred that I was not notified about?"

"Yes," sighed Alan. "His original partner was killed today on the job. It was a demon, sir. I…I’m concerned that Eric might do something reckless, and Dispatch will be down yet another good agent."

"Ah, but he is no longer an agent of _this_ branch,” reminded William. “Therefore I have no obligation to see to his well-being.”

"But he _will_ be again,” Alan protested passionately, his emotions rising to the surface. “He’s coming back to London again as soon as his transferal paperwork is finished processing! This time for good, with any luck. I have heard you say yourself that he’s one of the most reliable senior officers you have, even if you think he _does_ party too much. All I want to do is be there for him right now…help him through this.”

William sighed. “One moment.” He turned to his computer and he brought up a file on Eric Slingby, using it to trace back to his former partner in Scotland. Humphries was right: Senior officer Killian Foster of Edinburgh Dispatch was pronounced dead, earlier in the afternoon. The cause of death matched Humphries’ description and William glanced at him.

"Hmm, a pity. I shall look at our schedule and see what can be done, Humphries…but I warn you that should you be granted this leave, it will be an unpaid sabbatical and you will have to agree to overtime when you return, to make up for it."

"Of course, Mr. Spears," agreed Alan with obvious relief. "Whatever you require. Thank you so much, sir."

William nodded elegantly. “You are dismissed, Mr. Humphries. I shall notify you when I have made the arrangements. Your itinerary funding will be up to you, of course.”

"Understood." Alan stood up and left his office, leaving William to shake his head over the devotion some reapers displayed for their partners. He’d never gotten attached to another reaper that way…though Sutcliff somehow still managed to push every button he had and drive him to a fit of annoyance.

* * *

 

Three days later, Eric stood at the funeral pyre with other mourners, waiting for the local Shinigami funeral to give his friend traditional last rites and set the pyre ablaze. He was dry-eyed and tense, lips compressed as he stared at the coins placed on Killian’s eyes. It was a symbolic ritual given to the deceased of their kind in most places in the world, a universal gesture that some human cultures had picked up on to ensure the deceased had the fare to cross the river Styx into the afterlife. Bagpipes began to play—not “Amazing Grace” as mortal Scots traditionally did, but an older, more ancient tune that would have been regarded as “Heathen” by present day Christians on the other side.

The director began to speak the ancient rites in Gaelic, asking the Divine in all its many forms to grant Foster’s soul the eternal rest and peace he deserved. As he began to extol his virtues and list his many accomplishments as a servant of balance, Eric looked away. He frowned when he noticed someone coming up the hill, and his heart began to pound. The grounds keeper of the burial mounds was guiding a smaller man up the rocky path to the pyre, and he pointed at the top of the hill and spoke to his companion. The brunet nodded and walked the rest of the way alone.

Eric took his glasses off to rub his eyes, thinking they must be so tired they were playing tricks on him. He put them back on, and as the small figure came closer, he could make out his features clearly enough to be sure. “Alan?”

He couldn’t have heard him from that distance with the wind and the raised voice of the funeral director, but the brunet picked up the pace nonetheless. Eric stood stunned as his partner made it up the hill and approached him with a solemn little smile. “A-Alan…what’re ya doin’ here?”

Alan closed the remaining distance and he took Eric’s hands in his smaller ones. Eyes soft with sympathy and worry, he answered in a low murmur so as not to disturb the funeral rites. “Supporting my partner, of course.”

That did the Scotsman in. Before he knew it, his eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t stop it. He made a choked sound and he lowered his gaze as the salty moisture trailed a glistening path down his cheeks. He couldn’t speak for the death of him, and when Alan put his arms around him, he embraced him back and took a shuddering breath, holding him tightly. Alan stroked his hair as he finally broke down and wept.

* * *

 

Alan stayed at Eric’s side throughout the burning of his friend’s body, keeping one hand supportively clasped in his. The sun was beginning to set when the embers died down, the clouds having scattered during the funeral as if chases away by the ceremony itself. Foster’s remains were gathered carefully and placed in a stone urn, to be stored in one of the burial mound with the remains of other fallen reapers. When it was over, Eric gave his partner brief introductions to the other participants at the funeral, and then the couple walked together back to Eric’s car, waiting in the gravel parking lot outside the gated fence surrounding the sacred landscape.

"You look good in a kilt," complimented Alan softly as they arrived at the vehicle and Eric unlocked the doors.

The blond looked down at himself. His eyes were a little red from crying, but he seemed to have gotten it out of his system. He shrugged and toyed with the tassels hanging from the belt of his black and gold plaid kilt. “It’s traditional at events like this. Maybe I’ll wear one fer ya more often, when I get back.” He stared at his partner for a moment, admiring the way the slightly chilly breeze ruffled Alan’s fine brown hair. He circled around to the passenger side of the car to give him another hug.

"Thank ya fer comin’, sweetheart. Seeing ya show up like tha’ so unexpectedly was like catchin’ a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. Reminded me I’m alive."

Alan rubbed his back and stood up on his tiptoes to kiss him softly on the lips. “I couldn’t stay away after that phone call. I’m just sorry I didn’t get here sooner. There was a delay in the paperwork and I couldn’t leave until I was fully approved to travel. Otherwise, I might have been here two days ago.”

"Ye came," insisted Eric, "an’ tha’s all I care about. How long can ye stay?"

"They’ve given me a week of unpaid leave. It was the best I could get, and I’m frankly surprised they allowed that much. Supervisor Spears was very generous."

Eric grimaced. “I’ll be there were strings attached, though.”

Alan shrugged. “We are Shinigami. Strings are always attached when we have to separate our jobs from our personal life, aren’t they?”

"True ‘nough," agreed Eric. He stared at the smaller reaper as if seeing something in him he’d never noticed before, and he traced his parted lips with his fingertips. "Ye’ve changed a bit, Al."

The observation made the brunet suddenly nervous. “Oh? How so?”

"Yer more confident. I wouldnae say ya weren’t mature before, but ya seem a lot more sure of yourself."

Alan smiled. “Really?” Perhaps Grell’s advice was paying off. He hadn’t personally noticed a change in him, but if Eric saw it than it must be true. “It’s been hard getting on without you, but I’m starting to improve. I…don’t want to be entirely dependant on you to be a good agent. I hope that doesn’t sound bad.”

Eric shook his head. “Nah. I’m proud of ye, Alan.” He lowered his head to his for a kiss, and then he went around to the driver’s side to get in the car. Once Alan got in with him and buckled his safety belt, Eric sighed and looked through the rearview mirror at the burial site. “So fast. It happened so fast. One day he was here an’ tha next…gone. Och, ‘m sorry.”

Alan shook his head. “Don’t be. He was your friend and he used to be your partner. It’s only right for you to grieve, Eric. We can talk about it all you want once we get back to your place.”

Eric looked at him, frowning a little. “Where’s yer luggage?”

Alan shrugged. “I had them take it to your living quarters when I arrived. I wanted to get here as quickly as possible when I found out the funeral was already underway.”

"I’m glad ya did," admitted the blond softly. "I’ve go’ somethin’ tae show ya, when we get back tae my place."

"Oh?"

"Aye. Dun’ get mad though, a’right?" Eric cranked the engine and shifted the small car into gear.

Alan raised a brow, wondering why Eric would ask him not to get mad about whatever it was he had to show him. “Did you get injured in a bar fight or something? Are you going to show me new scythe scars?” Eric had a couple of old ones on his back and right thigh that were barely visible now, thanks to modern treatment methods. He’d evidently been in an altercation or two in the past that ended with scythes being drawn—along with blood.

The older reaper managed a chuckle. “Ya know me too well, but no. They’re marks, though.”

Puzzled, Alan toyed with his bolo tie as he looked at him. “What _sort_ of marks?”

Eric winked at him. “Ye’ll see when we get to mah living quarters.”

The younger reaper sighed. He hated it when his partner was evasive, but sometimes the surprises turned out to be nice.

* * *

 

"It’s no’ much," excused Eric as they stepped into his quaint residency, "but it’s clean an’ it has all I need while I’m stuck here."

Alan looked around with a nod. “I rather like it. It’s like a room in a cottage.”

Eric chuckled and opened the fridge to procure a beer for himself and some juice for his partner. “Sorry I dun’ have a bigger selection. I wasnae expecting company.”

Alan smiled, recalling when he’d first gone to stay with Eric at his London apartment. “You really are horrible about stocking the pantry and fridge,” he teased.

Eric raised a hand. “Guilty. But tha food here is really great, in mah defense. Tha’s one thing I really did miss; good, authentic Scottish food. I really ought tae learn how to cook better so I can make it mahself.”

"Your accent is a bit thicker," observed Alan with a smile. He took the offered beverage and went to sit down in the parlor. "Not that I mind."

"Lucky fer me ya seem tae have a weakness fer it," chuckled Eric. He started to join him, but Alan held up one hand and raised his brows.

"I want to see what it is you have to show me."

"Ah, tha’. Slipped my mind."

Eric put his beer on the counter, unbuttoned his jacket and draped it over the side of the couch, and then he started unbuttoning the long-sleeved, button-up shirt beneath it. Alan immediately started to flush, and he barely checked himself in time to avoid blurting that he wasn’t expecting a striptease and it really wasn’t necessary. He’d heard of Scots running off into battle naked, but he’d never heard of naked mourning.

Once Eric was stripped to his kilt, it took Alan a moment to realize there was something different about his body. He was too busy admiring his bared torso to notice it right away, but then Eric pointed at his right shoulder, and the brunet’s eyes were drawn to the fresh tattoo of a Celtic Cross.

"This one’s fer Killian," said Eric, and then he turned to display his left bicep, where a rope of Celtic knotwork now encircled it. "This one’s fer eternity."

Then he turned around and displayed two marvelous Celtic dragons on his back, on either side of his spine. They were facing one another; one green and the other gold. Eric looked over his shoulder at him as Alan impulsively reached out to trace them, mouth slack with awe. “An’ those are fer us; you an’ me. I actually got ‘em first. I dunno how ya feel about ink, but I wanted somethin’ tae remind me of ya always. Then Killian died an’…well, I got tha cross an’ tha knotwork.”

Alan kept tracing his fingertips over the smooth skin and the artwork inked into it, feeling the strong muscles underneath. He looked up at Eric and he spoke his thoughts sincerely. “It’s beautiful, Eric. I don’t consider myself a great fan of tattoos, but these are so…fitting…for you. You really did this one for me?”

"Fer us," corrected the Scotsman, turning back around. He took a seat next to him on the couch and took his hand. "Tha green one’s you, ‘cause it’s yer color. Tha gold one’s me. As far as I’m concerned, both ye an’ Killian are gonna be a part of me forever. Tha’s why I decided tae add tha knotwork after I had his cross put on."

Alan stared at him, his emotions rising to the surface. “Come here,” he demanded, putting both arms around him. Eric returned the embrace and Alan held him tight, stroking his golden hair. “I love you, Eric Slingby.”

* * *

 

-To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

Eric was given time off work while his partner was visiting, but he brought him into headquarters the next day anyhow, just to show him around the place and introduce him to some of his Scottish coworkers. He then took him on a ride through the countryside and they stopped at a quaint little pub to have lunch, before heading back to Eric’s place. The blond had some moments of brooding silence, but Alan encouraged him to grieve as much as he needed and not to worry about being depressing.

"You don’t need to apologize to me whenever you go quiet," insisted the brunet as they sat down to watch television together. He placed a hand on Eric’s knee. "I’m not here for a vacation, after all. You don’t have to keep me entertained, Eric."

The Scotsman sighed and laid his bigger hand over Alan’s. “I cannae thank ya enough fer yer patience an’ understanding, Alan. Ya being here righ’ now makes it all a bit more bearable, tae me.”

Alan slid his fingers through the older reaper’s hair, admiring his looks even though Eric’s eyes were a bit red. “Are you tired? We could take a nap. You tossed and turned a lot last night.”

"I know. Sorry if I kept ya up wi’ mah restlessness."

"No, it’s okay," assured Alan. He slipped Eric’s glasses off and he set them on the coffee table, along with his own. Getting up, he took Eric’s hand and urged him to come with. "Come on. I think we could both use a little nap, right now."

Eric gamely joined him, both tired and eager to hold him in his arms. Alan turned down the bed and patted it, smiling at him. “In you go.”

Eric sat down and took his boots and socks off. “Yer spoilin’ me,” he accused with a wan little smile.

"No more than you did me, when I was suffering depression after my first reap." Alan removed his shoes and socks as well, and he bit his lip as his partner took his shirt off and unbuttoned his trousers. He watched the muscles flex in Eric’s back, the dragon tattoos stretching with the skin as he stripped his pants off and tossed them aside. He hesitantly tugged his own shirt over his head, still not quite as confident with his body as the handsome Scot. He started to remove his pants, but he hesitated.

"I promise I won’t jump yer bones, Al," teased Eric with a soft chuckle. "Ye can strip tae yer skivvies in front o’ me. Yer boxers aren’t much shorter than your swimmers."

The brunet looked at his partner, eyes sweeping over his tawny, reclined body, and he flushed. How could he still get so flustered around him, when they’d fondled and caressed so many times? Then again, he hadn’t seen him for weeks, and they’d done nothing more than kiss and embrace since he arrived in Scotland. Pushing aside his bashfulness, Alan took his pants off and hastily climbed into the bed, slipping under the covers. Contradictory to his shy actions from earlier, he cuddled up to Eric once he was in the bed with him, laying his head on his broad chest.

"I cannae say I’ve ever seen anyone jump unner tha covers sae fast," observed the blond with a smirk, putting an arm around him. "Am I too much of an exhibitionist fer ya, sweetheart?"

Alan glanced down at the deep green boxer briefs Eric wore, and he shook his head. “No, no…of course not. You’re comfortable with your body and…and I like looking at you. I’m just…I’ve always been small and scrawny, and we’ve been apart for a while, so—”

"Yer no’ scrawny," protested Eric. "Small, aye, but perfect, all tha same."

He rubbed Alan’s back and he yawned softly. “An have ya forgotten I’ve already seen all of ye, Alan? Trust me, ye’ve go’ nothin’ tae be ashamed of.”

Blushing predictably, the brunet smiled. He stroked Eric’s chest and he closed his eyes, letting his hand drift a bit lower to his abs—but going no further than that. They were both tired, and these weren’t the ideal circumstances to get sexual. He offered a soft promise to the Scotsman though…a sincere one.

"When you return to England, I want to be with you in every way."

Eric cracked his eyes open again and looked down at the soft brown head nestled against his chest. He smiled, his body reacting naturally to the promise. “Whenever yer ready, sweetheart. ‘Till then, this is enough.”

* * *

 

As his brief time in Scotland went on, Alan became aware of his partner’s obsessive need to track down the demon that killed his friend. He began researching everything he could find on that particular breed of hellspawn, and seeing as they weren’t native to Scotland, Eric reasoned it wouldn’t be so difficult to pinpoint the responsible one. Alan tried to help him, but he was worried. Eric reserved his smiles only for him, now. Otherwise, he was brooding and filled with anger and bitterness. On his third day there, he and Eric were in the Edinburgh library looking up all reported sightings of scorpion demons in the country—of which there weren’t many—and he looked up from the reports he was going over with a worried frown.

"Eric, what exactly do you plan to do if you find this demon? Aside from the obvious, I mean. Have you thought about a plan or are you just going to run in with your scythe swinging?"

"Din’t ya know, Alan?" Eric glanced up from his own stack, across the table from him, and he graced him with a confident wink. "We Scots _always_ have a plan. It jus’ doesn’t always come tae us ‘till tha heat of tha moment.”

Alan checked a sigh. “Please don’t tease at a time like this.”

The older reaper sobered a bit, and he set down the material he was reading over. “I’ll arrange tae reap in areas tha demon’s been spotted in. If he’s still ‘round here, he’ll show up eventually…an’ I’ll be ready for him.”

"Do you have a partner?" pressed Alan. Much as he disliked the thought of him teaming up with someone other than himself, Eric’s safety was much more important than Alan’s jealousy.

Eric shook his head. “They dun’ require senior officers tae have partners in the field, here.”

The brunet bit his lip, dismayed. He wanted to tell Eric that had his friend had a partner with him, he might have survived. He could see the anticipation in his lover’s eyes though. Eric already expected him to say that, and in doing so, he would just be rubbing salt in the wound. He already knew Killian might still be alive, had he been reaping with a companion to watch his back.

"I’m not saying it’s foolish for you to want vengeance, by any means; but I don’t want to lose you. Ask them to assign you a partner until you can come back to London, too. I’ll sleep much better knowing you aren’t out there reaping alone."

Eric looked as though he had some objection to that, but he relaxed and smiled when Alan gave him the “doe eyes”. The Scotsman shook his head and chuckled. “A’right, _mo gràdhaich_. Cannae say ‘no’ tae yeh if I tried.”

Alan blushed and lowered his eyes, smiling helplessly. Being called “My love” in Gaelic did funny things to him…but then, he always reacted this way when his handsome partner spoke his mother tongue. It wasn’t the language itself alone—though Alan _did_ think it was a beautiful dialect. It was the way Eric’s voice sounded when he spoke it. He’d heard other Scottish reapers speaking Gaelic since arriving and it didn’t cause this thrill to go through him.

"And stop doing that," he whispered.

"Eh? Stop doin’ wha’?"

Alan raised his eyes again, flushing deeper. “Saying things like that in Gaelic. It…evokes thoughts and feelings that aren’t conductive to helping you with research.”

"Oh…tha’." Eric grinned at him.

"And you can stop smirking," chastised the British reaper. "I can’t help the affect it has on me."

Eric coughed behind his hand and shrugged benignly. “Wull, neither can I…but fer tha sake o’ yer concentration, I’ll try tae keep tha’ in mind.”

"You’re so kind," mumbled Alan dryly. He’d picked up a hint of sarcasm from pairing up with Grell—a thing which he’d never had a talent for in the past. There was no bite to his snark, though.

* * *

 

The day inevitably came for Alan to return to London, and their separation was even more painful this time than it had been the last. Eric reassured Alan that he had a good partner set up for when he returned to work after the weekend, and he promised not to get too reckless. It did little to dispel the brunet’s concerns, but he took what he could get. They stood in the portal room at the Edinburgh headquarters, locked in a tight embrace without concern for what passers-by might think. It was like reliving the first time all over again.

"Wish ya could stay, Alan," murmured Eric into his hair as he nuzzled it. "I’m grateful fer tha time we’ve been able tae spend t’gether, though. Here, lemme have a good look at ya, before yeh go."

Alan swallowed a lump in his throat as he pulled back enough to gaze up at him. Eric’s smile trembled slightly as he caressed his face and mesmerized his features. “I know I’ve go’ pictures of ya I can look at whene’er I please,” husked the Scot, “but it’s still no’ th’ same as seeing ya in tha flesh…an’ touching ya.”

Alan nodded. “I know. I feel the same.”

Eric lowered his mouth to his, cupping his face in his hands as he kissed him lingeringly. “Thank ye again fer comin’ when I needed ya th’ most. I cannae tell ya how much it’s meant tae me, sweet’eart.”

Alan squeezed him around the waist. “I couldn’t stay away; and I know you would have done the same for me if I had any close friends to mourn.”

He sighed and glanced over his shoulder at the portal back to London headquarters. “I’d best not put it off and risk penalties for returning late.”

Eric echoed his sigh and tugged on the extendable handle of Alan’s suitcase, offering it to him. “Aye. Dun’ let Sutcliff give yeh any hassle.”

The brunet smirked and turned his luggage around on its wheels. “I think he’s grown rather fond of me. He doesn’t tease me nearly as much as he used to.”

He started for the portal and he paused when he reached it, turning to regard his partner once more. “Eric, try not to do anything stupid. I would like you to return to England in one piece.”

Eric shrugged. “I’m Eric. I’m bound tae do somethin’ stupid eventually; but I promise tae try an’ keep it in check.”

Alan smiled. “I suppose it’s better than nothing. Keep me updated.”

With a last, shuddering sigh, Alan went through the portal and left Scotland behind.

* * *

 

Three months had passed since he’d visited Scotland, and he was steadily climbing the ranks as a Dispatch officer. In fact, Spears had informed him that if he kept up the good work, he could be promoted to senior officer status before his partner transferred back to London. Alan was sitting down to lunch in the cafeteria one day when another “Sutcliff outburst” occurred. 

"Oh, this is simply _awful_!”

Alan looked up from his food tray at the fuming redhead as Grell took a seat across from him and practically slammed his tray on the table. He was used to Grell’s theatrics by now, and he half-expected to find he’d broken a nail or found a loose thread in his uniform.

"What’s awful, Miss Sutcliff?" he asked politely—having also gotten used to using certain feminine pronouns when addressing Grell.

Grell huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “That… _man_. That dreadful, cold, conniving, handsome _devil_!”

Alan smiled a little in spite of himself. “What did Mr. Spears do this time…and you’d best not let him catch you referring to him as a devil. You know how he despises demons, and he might take offence.”

"Puh…as if I care what the horrible taskmaster thinks." Still, Grell lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned across the table a little, the ends of his red and white striped bowtie dangling over his mashed potatoes. "Listen to this, Humphries; Will has assigned to me an _apprentice_!”

He leaned back again and placed a hand over his chest as if gravely offended. “I’m to be a mentor…a senpai! _Me_! I’m far too _young_ to be saddled with some bratling reaper!”

Alan pinched his lips. He’d have thought he was far too _reckless_ to be a proper mentor, but he didn’t dare say so aloud. Spears was a calculating, level-headed reaper. He probably knew what he was doing and thought Grell had something to offer the younger generation.

"I don’t think it has anything to do with age, Grell," he soothed, comfortable enough with the crimson reaper by now to speak on a first-name basis from time to time. "It’s your status as a senior officer, and your experience in the field. Mr. Spears _did_ say that all senior officers should mentor a fledgling at least once in their careers, after all.”

"But mentors are _elders_ ,” protested Grell. “Do I look like an elder to you?”

Alan poked at his food uncomfortably. Truthfully, _nobody_ in Dispatch looked like an “elder”; at least not by mortal standards. Perhaps Lawrence Anderson, but he was ancient. He’d been around since the first reapers were created. Aside from him, Alan had never met a reaper that looked a day over thirty-five. “Well, how old _are_ you?”

It was probably not the best question to ask of Grell. The redhead’s eyes widened and he sniffed indignantly. “A lady never tells, and it isn’t polite to ask her age, anyhow.”

"I apologize," offered Humphries with tactful sincerity. "But you know, this could be seen as a compliment, Miss Sutcliff."

"A _compliment_?” scoffed Grell, “by insinuating that I am an elder? How so?”

Alan smiled a little and he took a sip of ginger ale before answering. “Maybe it’s not a statement on your age, as I suggested earlier. If Spears is assigning you an apprentice, then it must mean he thinks you’re competent and responsible enough to pass down some of your knowledge to a younger reaper. I can’t imagine Mr. Spears assigning a fledgling to anyone, if he didn’t feel they had something valuable to teach.”

Grell’s ire seemed to fade a bit, but he still looked doubtful. “As much as that man complains about me, do you honestly believe that?”

Alan nodded. “I do. Why would he risk tossing away the potential of a budding new reaper by assigning them to a poor mentor? He might complain about you, but this is a clear sign to me that he does value your skills.”

"Hmm…possibly. I _am_ an excellent reaper, after all.”

"Yes, you are."

When Grell narrowed his eyes at him as if suspecting he was being patronized, Alan spread his hands. “Well, you _are_. I’ve seen you in the field, both reaping and fighting off demons that try to get in the way. I don’t think anyone could question your skills in that department.”

"Ah, but I can read between the lines," sighed Grell. "It’s my personality, isn’t it? I’m simply too much for the ordinary reaper to handle."

Alan shrugged. “I don’t think so, but you know Mr. Spears isn’t very tolerant of fooling around on the job or what he considers making a spectacle of oneself.”

He half expected Grell to threaten to bite his head off with those sharp teeth of his, but the redhead only sighed and picked up his fork. He drew a caricature of William’s face in his mashed potatoes with it. “Yes, Will has ever been intolerant of my passion. Cold man.” He stabbed the fork into the face he’d drawn. “But still, I could eat him up.” He scooped up a bite of the potatoes and slipped it into his mouth with a grin, closing his eyes as if enjoying a particularly yummy treat.

"Ahem. I do hope I’m not interrupting your fantasies, Grell Sutcliff, but I have your orientation files to give to you."

Alan turned in his chair and blinked up at William T. Spears—who had come up behind him quite soundlessly. Across from him, Grell choked on his food and reached for his drink. He had failed to notice the supervisor’s approach, as well.

"W-Will!" Coughed Grell. "You couldn’t simply drop it at my office?"

William straightened his glasses and retrieved a folder tucked beneath his arm. “I am afraid this could not wait until your return after lunch. As soon as you’ve finished ‘eating me’, you are to report to the meeting hall to greet your new apprentice and provide him with his initial orientation to the grounds.”

Grell flushed brightly, proving that he did have some sense of shame after all—or was it that relentless stare from behind William’s glasses that so flustered him? “B-but I thought that was tomorrow!”

"The board wishes to begin first orientation as soon as a batch of new recruits arrives, now. The sooner they begin to learn their way around, the better. You have thirty minutes to eat and then you are to meet with Mr. Knox. Do not make me regret my decision to grant you a mentorship, Grell Sutcliff."

He glanced down at Alan and he gave him a nod, a bit more polite to him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Humphries. Now please excuse me; I have preliminary reports to go over.”

Alan watched the tall, elegant brunet leave, and he looked over at Grell’s dismayed face as the redhead started looking through the files in his folder. “I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he soothed as the redhead worried his lower lip with his teeth, incidentally drawing a spot of blood. “Stop doing that, Grell.”

"Hmm? Oh." Grell licked the blood away and he sighed. He turned the folder around to show Alan the contents of it. "Well, here is my new bratling. At least he’s cute."

Alan looked, and he saw a color portrait photograph of a young reaper with a yellow-blond cowlick that darkened to black at the collar. The boy was smirking as if he had a joke on the tip of his tongue, and his features were indeed comely. He could see the potential for mischief in his green-gold eyes, and something about that smirk reminded him of Eric.

"Just take a deep breath and remember that you are the one in charge," suggested Alan.

Grell nodded and closed the folder. “Damned right, I’m the one in charge. If this little ‘mustard seed’ gives me any backtalk, I shall spank him with my scythe!”

Alan huffed a soft laugh and shook his head. “You can’t technically do that to a student…but you _can_ teach him some humility when you spar with him to teach him some moves. Eric certainly humiliated me a bit, when I first started.”

He gave Sutcliff a cautionary look. “Just don’t use it as an excuse to take out your frustration on him and bully him, Miss Sutcliff. He has no more choice in this than you do. Try to remember that.”

"Yes, mummy Humphries," sighed Grell. "Do you lecture your partner like this?"

Alan smiled again. “Sometimes it’s necessary.”

"Go with me."

Alan blinked in surprise. “Pardon?”

"To meet my student," elaborated Grell. "You’ve got a way of reading people. I would like your opinion on him, and…your opinion of how best to deal with him."

Alan mentally reviewed his day’s schedule. He would probably have to stay late to finish his paperwork at the end of the day if he complied, but he could see how anxious Grell was about this and his heart went out to him. “I suppose I can do that. I can’t stay with you for the rest of the evaluation. That’s supposed to be between you and your apprentice, and I do have work of my own to do.”

"That’s fine, darling," assured Grell. "I only want you to meet him with me. You can tell me what you think tonight, after work."

Alan nodded, though he wondered what he was getting himself into.

* * *

 

"So, you’re my new senpai, huh?" Ronald Knox stuck out a gloved hand to shake Grell’s, and when the redhead placed his into it delicately in the manner of a lady expecting a kiss on the top of it, he looked confused. Ronald shook it gingerly, his gaze flicking to Alan. "Or are _you_ Mr. Sutcliff?” He offered Alan his hand, and he appeared relieved when the brunet shook it normally.

"That’s _Miss Sutcliff_ to you, boy,” admonished Grell in lofty tones, “and that would be me. This tiny, cute darling beside me is junior officer Alan Humphries. He wanted to meet you as well.”

Ronald blinked at the effeminate redhead, clearly confused. “Miss, eh? Um…a’right, then. Nice t’ meet ya both. I’m Ronald Knox and—”

"We _know_ who you are, my little green mustard seed,” interrupted Grell. “I should inform you right away that I won’t tolerate insults, insubordination or…oh, bother! I sound like _him_ now!”

Ronald scratched his head and looked at Grell as if he were a mental patient. “Like who? And beggin’ your pardon, but ain’t mustard seeds s’posed t’ be yellow?”

Alan looked down, hiding his smile and fighting the urge to laugh.

Grell sighed and waved it away. “Never you mind. Forget all that I was about to say. What is important is that I am your boss. You do _what_ I say, _when_ I say and you don’t question me! Is that perfectly understood, dumpling?”

"S-sure." Ronald got his first glimpse of Grell’s teeth when the redhead smiled in a warning, predatory manner. "Whatever y’ say, sir."

“ _Ma’am_!” corrected Grell sharply. “I am a _lady_ , and you will treat me as such!”

Ronald looked the crimson reaper over uncertainly. “Right. Ma’am. Sorry, it’s just you’re a bit flat-chested and—”

"Grell, don’t," intervened Alan when he saw the redhead lift his hand, ready to slap the boy. "He doesn’t know you, yet."

"Hey, if ya say you’re a lady then you’re a lady," gasped Ronald with a warding gesture. "Don’t hit me, senpai!"

Grell relaxed a bit, his expression softening at the way the boy called him “senpai”. Cheeky or not, Ronald did say it with sincere respect. “That’s better. Oh, look at those cheeks. Aren’t you just precious!”

Ronald gave Alan a pleading look as his new mentor pinched said cheeks. “Er…thanks.”

Alan had to pretend to examine an imaginary loose thread on his pants, because he again feared he might laugh. He cleared his throat and straightened up when he regained control of his amusement. “Well, let’s get out of this crowd. I should be getting back to work, and you have your orientation to look forward to. Mr. Knox, have you had anything to eat?”

"Oh yeah," enthused the blond, rubbing his cheeks where Grell had pinched them moments ago. "They’ve got a brilliant spread! I tried food I’ve never even heard of, on th’ buffet! I’m totally stuffed."

"Good." Alan smiled. "Well, shall we?"

"Oh, all right," sighed Grell. "Ronald, give me your arm. A lady always prefers to be walked out by a gentleman, after all."

The blond hesitantly offered his arm, and Grell delicately slipped his gloved hand through it. The three of them left the meeting hall and stepped outside onto the academy grounds. “So tell me, darling,” pressed Grell as he produced a red lace parasol from mid-air and opened it to shield himself from the sun, “where are you from? By the sound of your accent, I would guess the country?”

Ronald shrugged and nodded. “Yes sir…I mean ma’am! Lived with mum outside Sheffield.”

Grell stopped walking, and so did Alan. “You were _born_ a reaper?” asked the redhead, “as in, with two reaper parents?”

Ronald nodded. “Yes’m. Never knew m’ dad, though. I’ve been training _real_ hard, and I wanna be a great reaper, someday. Mum put aside every coin she had t’ send me to the academy.” He straightened up proudly and smirked. “I was head o’ my class for reaping technique, last year.”

"Don’t brag, mustard seed," warned Grell. "It’s unbecoming."

Alan rolled his eyes. “Then you’d better follow your own advice, Miss Sutcliff.”

Grell stuck his tongue out at him. “The rule is ‘ _do as I say, not as I do’_.”

"Ladies don’t stick their tongue out," reminded Alan with a teasing smile.

Grell swatted at him with the parasol. “If all you’re going to do is undermine me, you can take your leave!”

"I’ve got to be going soon anyway," agreed Alan with a soft chuckle. "But I think it’s really fascinating that you’re a ‘natural born’, Ronald. That’s not very common."

"Not common at all," agreed Grell with a thoughtful look at the boy on his arm. "I think we only receive two or three students per semester that were born into this existence through birth. The rest are raised after mortal death. I wonder whether this will bring you advantages or hindrance in the course of your training, little Knoxy."

"I’m not little," protested Ronald. "I’m taller than him!" He pointed at Alan, and then he winced. "Er…sorry, Mr, Humphries."

Alan smiled forgivingly and shook his head. “It’s fine. Nearly _everyone_ is taller than I am. I’m used to it.” He checked his watch. “Well, I’d best be off. Grell, be nice to the boy. Ronald…you’ll get used to your mentor. She’s just showing off.”

"Off with you!" Grell swatted at him again with the parasol, and Alan took off. The redhead turned his sharp smile on Ronald again. "I think you’ll come to know me as a very passionate reaper, Ronald…but if you get on my good side, we ought to get along fine."

"Guess I can give it a try," muttered Ronald. "Miss Sutcliff, when y’ say ‘do as I say, not as I do’, well…how is that possible?"

Grell tilted his head in puzzlement. “Do elaborate, dear.”

Ronald scratched his head with his free hand as they passed beneath an expansive oak tree. “Well, if you’re my mentor and I’m s’posed t’ learn from you, I kind of _have_ t’ do what you do…least sometimes.”

Grell smiled again, finding the logic not only sound, but rather adorable. “Yes, I imagine you do; at least as it pertains to training. If you truly want to be like my beautiful self though, Ronnie dear, I could have you fitted for a dress.”

Ronald went still, his eyes widening in horror. “You ain’t wearing a dress,” he sputtered pointedly.

Grell sighed. “Of course not. I am on the clock. I do on occasion like to dress as the lady I am, however.”

"Oh." Clearly unfamiliar with the concept, Ronald tried to be polite. "W-well, I’m a bloke, so a dress isn’t really my thing. If y’ want t’ help me pick out a formal suit for social stuff, I’d be up for that."

Grell shrugged. “Have it your way, darling. It could be just as much fun to dress you up like a prince as it would be to dress you as a princess.” He giggled delicately and tilted his parasol as they turned down a garden path. “Have you anything to wear to any ‘social stuff’ yet, Knox?”

He lowered his gaze and shook his head. “Not really. M’ school uniform’s about the fanciest thing I’ve got, and that broke Mum’s purse t’ purchase. Guess I’ll just have to skip out on any dances ‘r anything ‘till I can start earning.”

Grell looked at him sidelong. “We’ll see. Now, let’s discuss your other performance scores and what we can do to improve areas where you lack.”

Ronald nodded and listened attentively.

* * *

 

Alan called Eric after phoning Grell that night to give him a bit of advice. He was certainly no expert, having never mentored himself, but Eric had been a very good instructor to him and he used that as an example of things Grell should focus on. He relaxed on the couch in his flat and turned down the television as he waited for his partner to pick up on the other line.

"Hey, Al," said the beloved voice after a few rings. "I was jus’ thinkin’ o’ callin’ ya."

"Hi Eric." Alan smiled, imagining the other reaper sitting beside him, instead of separated by miles. "How are things?"

"No’ bad. I found a lead on a spot where tha demon I’m after’s been striking regularly. I think I might finally get ‘em, soon."

Alan sobered. “Just please, make sure you don’t go after it without backup.”

"Ya need tae stop worrying ‘bout tha’, sweetheart. I already promised I won’t do it solo. Won’t do much good tae Killian if I get mahself killed tryin’ tae avenge him, an’ I still want tae come home tae yeh."

"Good." Alan relaxed again, smiling at the way Eric called London his home now. "Well, I have news, too. You won’t believe who’s taken on an apprentice."

"Spears?" guessed Eric. "Though tha man’s so busy already, I dun’ know how he’d find th’ time."

"No, it’s Grell."

There was a brief silence, and then: “ _Sutcliff_? Yer shitting me!”

Alan laughed softly. “No, I’m not. Mr. Spears assigned him to a greenie named Ronald Knox. Blond, lean build, a bit taller than me but not by much. He seems like a nice person. He reminds me a little of you, in a way. Sutcliff was really upset about it, but I reasoned with him and he seems to like the boy well enough.”

Eric sighed. “Tha’ poor kid. Grell’s gonna send him through tha wringer.”

"Maybe not," countered Alan. "He genuinely seems to want to do right by him, so I gave him some pointers based on how you trained me. I suppose only time will tell."

"I jus’ dunno wha’ tha boss is thinkin’, but Spears does a lo’ of things I don’t get. Knox, was it?"

Alan nodded. “Does the name sound familiar to you?”

"I’m no’ sure," admitted Eric, and then he dismissed it. "I’ve met a lo’ of reapers in my time as an agent. I could have run into a Knox at some point. No tellin’. So how’ve ya been, Alan?"

"Not bad." Alan picked at his pajama bottoms. "I just miss you."

"I miss ya too," replied Eric. "Every single day."

Alan got up and went into the bedroom. Laying down on his lonely single bed, he made a shy request of his lover. “Eric…would you sing me to sleep tonight?”

"Depends if ye’ve had dinner yet," answered the Scotsman.

Alan started to lie, but he sighed. “I had a snack before clocking out. Does that count?”

“‘Fraid not,” said Eric sternly. “Have some dinner an’ call me back. Then I’ll sing yeh tae sleep.”

Alan grumbled. “Stingy Slingby.”

Eric chuckled. “No, jus’ takin’ care o’ mah partner—who forgets meals wi’out reminders sometimes.”

"All right," agreed Alan grudgingly. "I’ll call you back after I’ve had something."

"Better. An’ dinnae jus’ nibble on cheese an’ call it supper. Have a true meal, love."

"I will."

Alan said goodbye to him and he hung up. He smiled, even though he was faintly annoyed with Eric for not complying with his request when he was ready to go to bed. He usually didn’t turn in this early, but he’d had a full day and he didn’t feel like cooking. He did have some frozen meals in the freezer he could peruse through, though.

* * *

 

-To be continued 


	9. Chapter 9

As time went on, Alan was passed around between three different partners, after Grell took on his apprentice. Thankfully, Eric only had a few months left before he could put in for a permanent transfer to the London division. Alan didn’t mind swapping out temporary partners in the meantime, and he still got to reap with Grell now and then whenever he was sent on an assignment deemed too dangerous for a rookie to accompany him.

In the meantime, Alan worked hard to improve and earn his place amongst the senior officers. He brought in more collections than any other reapers his age and rank, matching and sometimes even exceeding the numbers of his superior officers. Spears took notice of it and one day when returning to Eric’s office after a day of heavy reaping, Alan was treated to a surprise. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he opened the door and got shouted at by several voices.

"Congratulations!" they cried, and the next thing he knew, confetti was thrown into the air.

Clutching at his chest with wide eyes, Alan stared at his coworkers. Grell and Ronald were in the forefront, and William was in the background. He recognized several fellow Dispatch officers in the ranks, along with quite a few men and women from other departments. Even Father Anderson was there.

"What’s this about?" gasped Alan, taken aback.

"It’s your celebratory party, silly boy," admonished Grell with a Cheshire grin. He wore a glittery red tiara on his head, as opposed to the party hats everyone else—except for Spears—donned.

"Here, we’ve got a hat for you t’ wear, too!" Ronald approached with a yellow and white polka-dot cone hat for him. "Congratulations, Alan-senpai!"

Alan took the hat absently, still utterly confused. “What am I being congratulated _for_ , though? Did I meet some sort of hidden quota?”

"In a manner of speaking," explained William, stepping forward. He held out a new identification badge with Alan’s picture on it. "You are now a fully decorated senior officer of this establishment, Humphries. Well done."

A little smile curved Alan’s lips. “I am? Really?” He took the ID badge and studied it, feeling elated but hardly believing it was real.

"You have been with us for a year, now," answered William. "Did I not tell you that you would be eligible for promotion to senior officer status after such time had passed?"

"Well yes sir, but you also told me not to get my hopes up. Some reapers wait for _years_ before they get a promotion.”

"Not the exceptional ones," assured Spears with the barest hint of a smile. "You’ve proven your worth to our division, demonstrating quality work ethic, skills and efficiency. The board recognizes such devotion and rewards it."

He glanced at the smiling young blond at Grell’s side. “Take note of this, Knox. Officer Humphries isn’t much older than yourself. This is the proof that hard work will be rewarded.”

Ronald straightened up a little at being addressed by the supervisor, and he nodded and gave him a salute. “Yesser…I mean yes sir!”

Alan hid a smile. Spears had begun to school Knox on the proper way of speaking, evidently finding his country accent a bit jarring. It reminded him of the way Eric always tempered his Scottish accent around his coworkers here. He himself found the boy’s way of speaking charming, and he had no trouble understanding him.

"Thank you," said the small brunet sincerely, giving a little bow of respect. "I…don’t know what to say. This is so unexpected!"

"Say we can have some cake," pleaded Ronald. "I’m starvin’!"

Alan chuckled and looked at the big white cake with the blue icing spelling out “Congratulations, Alan” on it, sitting on his absent partner’s desk. He nodded. “Of course. I’ll begin cutting pieces for everyone right now.”

Anderson handed over the cake cutter to him. “Pity Officer Slingby isn’t here to see this,” he remarked kindly. “I am sure he’ll be quite proud of you, son.”

Alan nodded, his smile becoming a little sad. “Yes, but I’ll call him tonight and let him know. He and I can celebrate together when he comes back.”

Ronald waited eagerly as Alan began to slice up servings of the cake and pass them around. Alan noticed the way the blond winked at one of the young ladies from Human Resources, and he heard Grell sigh in irritation as the redhead came up beside him.

"That boy is so bloody girl crazy," whispered Grell. "It’s a nuisance! He has to stop and flirt with every woman he sees!"

Alan chuckled. “He’s young and he’s stretching his wings. Give him a little slack, Grell.”

"But it interferes with both training _and_ reaping,” hissed Grell. “The moment someone in a skirt walks by, he’s opening doors for them, complimenting their hair—”

"—In other words, being a gentleman like you insisted from the beginning," interjected Alan with a smirk. "At least he’s not groping them or doing wolf whistles. Respectful flirtation is better than him behaving like a creep, don’t you think?"

Grell sighed. “I suppose. The issue isn’t so much how he interacts with the fairer sex though; it’s the way he goes out of his way to do it!”

Alan glanced at the boy in question, and it was then that he noticed something that had apparently escaped Grell’s notice. William softly excused himself to reach past Ronald for the drink he’d left on the desk, and for just a moment, their arms brushed against one another and Ronald flushed and stared at the tall, raven-haired supervisor.

_~I don’t know that he flirts because he’s girl-crazy.~_

He chose not to call attention to it, though. He could be wrong. The brief stare Ronald gave to William and the flush in his cheeks could possibly be attributed to admiration. He’d once looked at Eric in much the same way, before he realized his feelings went beyond a sort of hero worship. If his suspicions were right, however, Ronald’s constant flirtation with girls could be his way of covering up a crush for a man he oughtn’t be crushing on.

_~And if Grell knew that his fledgling was crushing on the object of his affections, he’d make life a living hell for poor Ronald.~_

"Here, Ronald," offered Alan with a smile, feeling sympathetic for him. "I cut a big piece just for you."

"Oh, wow…thanks!" Ronald took the offering with a wide grin, looking faintly grateful for the distraction. His eyes flicked to William again—briefly—and Alan was again stricken with the feeling that his interest in their supervisor wasn’t strictly professional.

_~You poor thing. I can relate to those awkward stirrings.~_

* * *

 

That night, Alan phoned Eric long distance to give him the news. Unfortunately, he got his voice mail. He sighed in disappointment, but he trusted his partner would call him right back as soon as he got the news.

"Eric, it’s me. I have some exciting news to share! Today when I came back to your office, everyone was waiting there with a cake and confetti. I’ve been promoted to Senior Officer rank! Can you imagine? I thought I might have to wait at _least_ five years before I even got considered for a promotion. Call me back when you get this message, will you? I miss you.”

He hung up and put his phone down, relaxing in the armchair as he pulled out his new badge and looked it over again. A smile tugged at his lips. He’d get his own mailbox now, and if he so wished, an office of his own. He was happy to keep sharing his partner’s office, though. He didn’t need a big, fancy, private office to feel successful. The one thing that would make this perfect would be for his partner to return.

He waited up for hours for Eric’s call, but it never came. He tried leaving him a text and ringing him again, but he never got a response. It effectively curbed his enthusiasm over his promotion, and he didn’t sleep well that night due to worry.

"Eric…please be okay," he sighed as he tossed and turned in Eric’s big, lonely bed. He migrated between his flat and Eric’s apartment, keeping watch on the place while he was gone and taking comfort in the Scotsman’s lingering presence. He’d had to wash the bedding, unfortunately, so Eric’s scent was gone from it. He found a half-empty bottle of the man’s aftershave in the medicine cabinet though, and he sometimes dabbed some on just to have that pleasant scent lingering on him. Tonight, that scent only served to remind him of how far away his partner was, and his lack of communication made Alan imagine all sorts of awful things.

He was starting to get the horrible feeling that Eric was hurt…or worse.

* * *

 

The next morning was rough for Alan. He’d gotten perhaps three hours of sleep, and upon checking his text and phone messages, he found that he still hadn’t received a return call or text from Eric. He got ready for work hastily, skipping breakfast in favor of getting into the office early so that he could check with Edinburgh and find out if Officer Slingby’s name was on the list of recent fatalities.

"I’m sorry, I can’t chat this morning," he said as Grell spotted him in the lobby and started to approach. He hurried to the elevator, ignoring the redhead’s indignant response.

"Well, I _never_! Alan Humphries, whatever’s gotten _into_ you?” Grell followed him into the elevator. “It isn’t like you to be so rude to a lady!”

Alan sighed and pressed the button for their floor. “I’m sorry, Grell…truly. I’m just worried about Eric. He hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts, and that isn’t like him.”

"Oh. Well, no _wonder_ you’re so distracted.” Grell sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall. “You know, Alan, Slingby _does_ have a reputation of being a heart-breaker. I believe I’ve tried to warn you before.”

Alan frowned. “Just what are you implying?”

Grell shrugged and examined his perfectly manicured, red-painted nails. “Men have needs, darling. You’ve been apart for some time…just a few months short of a year, now. I think you’d best prepare yourself for the possibility that he’s sought comfort in the arms of some Scottish chit.”

"He wouldn’t do that." Alan denied angrily. There were few things that could make him mad. Implying that his partner would betray him was one of them. "Don’t ever even _suggest_ it!”

"Goodness, how fiercely you defend that hunky Scotsman of yours! Why, I think you might have steam coming out of your ears, Humphries!" Grell chuckled, unconcerned with his ire. "I’m only trying to be practical, darling. You weren’t around when Eric was playing the field, but I was."

"That was then," insisted the brunet. "This is now. Please don’t mention it again, Grell. I find it personally insulting, and I know Eric wouldn’t stand for it if someone insinuated such a thing about me."

Grell sighed. “Ah, to be so in love. I really envy the two of you. I wonder when I’ll finally ensnare my own prince?”

Still peeved at the crimson reaper for besmirching his lover’s honor, it was on the tip of Alan’s tongue to inform him that he likely had some competition for Will’s affections, now. He calmed down and refrained, however, thinking of Ronald’s well-being. He didn’t even know for sure if he was right, and to inform Grell that his own apprentice had his eyes on Will would just be a spiteful action that could only mean disaster for Knox.

"I’m sure you’ll find someone eventually," he said tactfully, "if you can learn to be a bit more considerate of others."

They arrived at the office floor, and he excused himself, walking away from the elevator to his and Eric’s office as quickly as he could, to avoid further confrontation with Sutcliff. He generally liked the flamboyant reaper, but Grell did have an unfortunate habit of saying whatever was on his mind, without a thought or care for how it effected others.

"Good luck with her, Ronald," muttered Alan under his breath as he unlocked the door and opened it. He was looking down at his feet as he turned to close the door behind him, and when he turned back around again to go over to his desk, he stopped in his tracks and dropped his keys on the floor.

There, sitting back in his brown leather office chair with his boots propped up on the desk, was his partner.

Alan blinked, eyes going wide behind the lenses of his glasses as they feasted upon the Scotsman’s long, trouser-clad legs, partly unbuttoned shirt and loose tie. His gaze settled on the sensually smiling lips, then the crafty eyes behind blue-tinted glasses.

"E-Eric?" Alan took a step forward, scarcely believing it.

Slingby gave him a little salute, before dropping his feet to the floor and standing up. “Yer early,” he remarked. “I was gonna jump out an’ surprise ya, but yeh caught me napping. I woke up when I heard ya come in through th’ door.”

Alan staggered over the floor to him, feeling like his legs were going to give out at any moment. When the blond held his arms open and started walking toward him, he bounded the rest of the way and jumped into his embrace, clinging to him tightly.

"Eric…oh, Eric! You…you _bastard_!”

"Huh…no’ exactly tha reception I expected," admitted the Scotsman with a chuckle. "Wha’d I do this time?"

"You made me worry, that’s what!" Alan kept his arms locked around the taller reaper’s neck as he looked up at him. "I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since last night! What are you doing here?"

"Ah, tha’ explains it. Sorry, Al…I packed so quickly I fergot mah phone. Didn’t mean tae worry yeh. They’ll be sending it tae me today."

Alan sighed in relief. “I pictured you dead in a ditch somewhere. Are you…visiting?”

Eric shook his head and grinned, setting the younger man down on his feet lightly. “Nup, I’m here fer good. Last week I saved a senior manager’s hide when a nasty demon go’ through one o’ tha portals an’ went fer his throat. Doesnae happen often, but once in a while a standin’ portal can weaken enough fer things tae get intae our realm from th’ other side. Most demons ‘r smart enough not tae come here, but this one was meaner than he was smart.”

He lowered his head to give Alan a lingering kiss, before finishing his explanation. “Mm. So anyways, the district manager was sae grateful, he asked if there was anythin’ he could do tae repay me. I asked him tae pull some strings an’ get mah paperwork processed early fer mah permanent transfer.”

"Eric, that’s wonderful," enthused Alan, smiling happily. "And you’re _sure_ it’s all properly in order? That they aren’t going to turn around and say there was some mistake in the paperwork and make you go back again?”

Eric chuckled and stroked a thumb over Alan’s chin. “Nothin’ tae worry ‘bout. Spears went o’er it himself tae be sure it was done right. Only reason fer me tae go back now would be fer a visit. I’m officially a London Dispatch officer now.”

Alan hugged him, resting his cheek against his chest. “Thank Rhea! But when did you get in?”

"About half an hour ago. Mah things are in tha closet o’er there—cept tha phone. I stayed in a suite in Edinburgh headquarters last night so I could go as soon as they opened up tha portal room. Thought about heading straight home, but I knew ye’d be comin’ in and I’d prolly miss yeh on tha way, so I figured I’d jus’ stay here an’ wait for ya."

"I wish you’d have at least called me from the office when you got here," sighed Alan. "I’d have rushed even faster to get to the office."

"An’ gotten into a wreck or earned a speedin’ ticket," countered Eric with a grin, "though tha thought o’ my cautious partner wi’ a lead foot is an interestin’ one."

Alan smirked and poked him in the side. “I’m not _you_. I might speed a bit when the situation warrants it, but I don’t drive like a maniac.”

"Oi, I’m a professional driver," protested Eric. "I know how tae handle a car."

"And scare the daylights out of anyone riding with you when you go into racing mode," insisted Alan with a chuckle. "It doesn’t matter though; you’re here, now. Promise me you’ll never leave again."

"It’s a promise," obliged the taller reaper, and he lowered his head to Alan’s for another kiss.

* * *

 

It was like old times again, and Eric never enjoyed his job so much before as he did now. He and Alan were made to be partners. He noticed how much the brunet had improved, and he was extremely proud of him for gaining a promotion to senior officer status, so early in his career. He found to his disconcertment that his time in Scotland had indeed thickened his accent again though, so he made a mental note to work on tempering it so that his British coworkers could understand him and wouldn’t give him a hard time.

"You know, Eric," Alan said as they finished up their last reap for the day, "I still prefer your natural accent over a pseudo British one. Promise me you’ll never mask it when it’s just the two of us. I have no trouble understanding you with the Scottish brogue."

Eric smiled and put an arm around him. “I know ya don’t, love…an’ I’ll keep tha’ in mind.”

He felt Alan shiver in the late November air, and he gave him a squeeze as they watched the orange glow of the setting sun. “I ne’er found it,” he murmured. “Tha demon tha’ murdered Killian. Tracked it all o’er Scotland, but I ne’er caught up wi’ it.”

Alan looked up at him. “You could have stayed longer to try.”

Eric nodded and looked down at him. “Aye, but then I wouldnae be here now wi’ ya. Solace in a loved one is jus’ as important as vengeance, tae heal. ‘Sides, demons live forever if they’re no’ killed by somethin’, an’ so do we reapers. I’ll get mah chance, someday.”

Alan smiled and cuddled closer. “I think you’ve grown, Eric.”

The Scotsman chuckled. “Maybe jus’ a little. No’ as much as _yeh_ have, though.”

Alan toyed with his partner’s dangling tie, before sliding his fingers up to touch the gold chain around his throat. “Are you very tired from traveling the portals and jumping back into a full day of work?”

Eric shrugged. “A bit…no’ too bad, though.”

The brunet smiled and gazed up at him. “Then you have enough left in you to make me a man tonight? I can think of only one thing missing from my right of passage from fledgling to adult.”

The Scotsman gave him a puzzled look. “Make yeh a…but ye already _are_ a man, partner. I dunno wha’ yeh…oh.”

Seeing the semi-frustrated look on Alan’s sculpted face, he thought he understood. “ _Oh_. Tha’.”

An uncommon flush warmed his cheeks to match the blush spreading over Alan’s face. “Yer sure?”

Alan nodded. “I told you I wanted to be with you in every way, when you returned home to me. I meant that…and I think we’ve waited for long enough.”

Eric turned to face his companion head-on, putting both arms around him. “Then I’d best make it an experience ye’ll remember fer tha rest o’ yer days, aye?”

Alan smiled and put his arms around him in return. “Somehow I have no doubt you’ll manage.”

Their mouths met again, just as the sun sank below the London horizon.

* * *

 

They barely made it through the door to Eric’s apartment and set the luggage down before Alan was in his arms, excited and nervous at once.

"I’ve missed you…so much."

He couldn’t resist. Going months without a single kiss or caress from the reaper he’d fallen in love with was too much for him all the sudden, and he wanted to explore Eric in ways he never got the chance to before. He pulled the Scotsman down for a kiss, claiming his mouth with clumsy eagerness. When Eric reciprocated, it became more natural and Alan moaned into his mouth as the blond’s tongue caressed his. He felt the press of Eric’s growing arousal against his lower abdomen, and he wanted more. The man was too gorgeous, and not a day went by that Alan didn’t think of his touch…his voice…his kisses.

He started guiding him through the hallway towards the bedroom, and once in there, he took his partner’s hands and sat down, urging him to join him on it. “Alan—mmph…”

Whatever Eric had been about to say got cut off by the younger reaper’s mouth again seeking his out. He kissed him deeply and he began to unbutton Eric’s shirt. “No questions,” begged Alan against the Scotsman’s lips. “I want…I want to kiss you all over…touch you everywhere, Eric.”

"Yer no’ one fer wastin’ time." Eric’s breath had quickened and the crotch of his pants was now bulging delightfully, leaving little doubt that he wanted it as much as Alan did.

The brunet pulled Eric’s shirt open to reveal that powerful chest and those gorgeous abs. He felt deprived, and a little desperate. He knew the paperwork had gone through, but some unreasonable part of him kept expecting there to be a mistake in the processing, and to have Eric taken away from him again. “I’ve been fantasizing about it for months. Look at the brazen thing you’ve turned me into, Eric.”

"I think I like this ‘brazen thing’," murmured the older reaper huskily. He gasped as Alan fondled a nipple. "I like it a _lot_.”

Blushing with both embarrassment at his own behavior and excitement over touching Eric’s body again, Alan stopped kissing his lips to kiss his throat. He ran his hand over his chest, admiring the feel of the muscles under the tanned skin and golden pattern of hair. His hand drifted lower over the tight abs, while his other hand combed through Eric’s collar-length waves of hair. He traced the pattern of black-dyed cornrows woven into the hair on the right side of Eric’s head, and he kissed his way back up to his earlobe.

"Mmm, been practicin’ moves on someone while I was gone?" Eric’s eyes were closed with pleasure.

"Only you, in my head," assured Alan. Maybe it was because he’d missed him too much to feel shy right now, but he suffered no hesitation or shame for his bold actions.

When Eric started to unbutton his shirt in return, Alan pulled back and shook his head, looking at him seriously. “Not yet. I didn’t get the chance to enjoy you the way I would have liked before you left. They robbed me of my opportunity to familiarize myself with you, Slingby.”

Eric gave him a somewhat sheepish look. “Ah, o’ course. I’m all yers then, Alan. Whatever ya want.”

It wasn’t meant as a punishment…or was it? Alan couldn’t be sure. He just needed to reaffirm that he was real, that he was there with him and that he was his. He resumed his gentle kisses and his explorations, again threading his fingers through Eric’s hair as he slid the shirt down over the Scotsman’s broad shoulders to bare the tattoos on his shoulder, bicep and back to view. Eric pulled his arms out of the sleeves for him and Alan tossed the shirt aside. Capturing his lips for another kiss, Alan dropped his exploring hand to the nearest thigh and he rubbed it through the material of the brown trousers Eric was wearing.

He was being very cooperative; either due to surprise or simple adoration. Alan appreciated that, having seen the aggression Eric could demonstrate when his passions were roused. He stroked up toward his crotch and he felt the bigger man tense with anticipation. He almost expected Eric to try to push him down onto his back and have his way with him, but he restrained himself. Smiling a little against the lips that he nibbled and sucked at, Alan gave his lover one liberty, parting his lips to allow his tongue into his mouth.

"Nnmm," moaned the brunet as his partner’s tongue thrust insinuatingly into the moist recesses of his mouth, caressing his own. He ached with need, recalling the way his cock had thrust into his hand in a similar manner, the last time he’d touched him intimately. Heart pounding now, he slid his hand the rest of the way up Eric’s thigh to cup the impressive bulge in Eric’s pants, letting it fill his hand and beyond. A growl rumbled in Eric’s throat as he rubbed it, and he knew he must be uncomfortable in the constraints of the trousers. Alan decided to free him from them, unbuckling his belt and snapping the button, before tugging the zipper down.

"Alan," muttered the Scotsman huskily, breaking the kiss as the smaller reaper tugged the top of his underwear down to reveal the flushed, swollen head of his arousal. Alan circled the velvety knob at the tip with his fingertips, making him grunt. "Ah, gods…yer drivin’ me crazy."

"Now you know how I felt, all those times you felt me up," teased the brunet, still too impassioned to feel any modesty. His cheeks were flushed, but that was due to his desire and excitement. He kissed him again, demanding his tongue once more as he fondled the sensitive tip, taking his time petting it. Little drops of fluid beaded over the slit and lubricated it as he rubbed steadily, smearing it over the cap to make it shiny with precum.

Eric shuddered, his hands grabbing the bedsheets and squeezing them in his struggle to keep his word and behave. He groaned and uttered a low plea against his lips, hips thrusting upwards in an effort to free the rest of his endowments from their confines without using his hands.

Alan took pity on him. “Lay back,” he commanded breathlessly.

Eric obeyed, threading his fingers behind his head as he reclined on the mattress. His eyes were flashing with lust as they gazed at Alan and the brunet’s flush deepened. He’d have never imagined himself being so assertive, but it made him feel powerful to know that he had this strong, capable reaper at his mercy, willing to let him do whatever he wanted. He fully intended to end the evening with Eric thrusting passionately between his thighs, but first he wanted to take his time and enjoy his tawny body to the fullest extent.

Alan got up and he removed Eric’s boots and socks, before tugging his pants down. The Scotsman lifted his hips to assist, his hot gaze remaining on the smaller reaper the entire time. It made him feel sexy…desired. Taking a slow breath, Alan stripped off Eric’s briefs and dropped them to the floor. He took a moment to admire the supine form of his lover, eyes roving over the toned torso, narrow hips, the v of the pelvic line, the powerful thighs and long legs dangling over the side of the bed…and finally, the substantial size of the endowments framed by golden curls. So gorgeous…and now he really was all his.

"Get the rest of the way onto the bed," he demanded. Was that his voice, so breathy and husky?

Eric smirked and did as requested, lying back against the pillows and stretching out. Alan climbed back on with him and he straddled his thighs, sitting down on them as he gazed down at him. He stroked his hands over Eric’s shoulders and arms, and then he did the same with his biceps and abs.

"Never leave me again, Eric," he said as one hand curled around the thick girth of the Scotsman’s rigid shaft. He gave it a slow stroke and he stared into his eyes, utterly serious.

Eric’s breath escaped in an unsteady rush and he shook his head, his blond locks falling over his left eye. “Ne’er. Tha’ part’s all over wi’, Alan. ‘M here tae stay now.”

Alan gave his cock another stroke, and he moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as Eric’s eyes drifted shut with pleasure. “You’d better be.”

He wanted to kiss him…down there. The way Eric had kissed him before. He’d never done such a thing before though, and Eric was well above average in size. He’d have to proceed with caution, because the last thing he wanted to do was ruin the moment by gagging on him. He settled for stroking him for a while, watching the expressions of delight flit across those handsome features. He reached down with his other hand to cup his balls, rolling the plump sack in his palm with care. Eric’s breath caught and his brows furrowed, eyes slitting back open to gaze up at him as his hands tightened around the pillow his head rested on.

"Do you like my touch?" questioned Alan softly, resisting a smile. He could see the answer…feel it in the way the thick length in his hand throbbed.

"Aye," whispered the Scotsman. "Sae sensual, sweetheart. Are ya sure ye’ve no’ been practicing on somethin’?"

Alan chuckled. “I _do_ have a set of these myself, you know. Not nearly as impressive as yours, but did you really think I would go for all this time without seeing to my own needs, while you were away?”

Eric joined his soft laughter. “Right. I jus’ wasnae expectin’ ye tae be so assertive. Should’ve known better, after how passionate yeh were all those times we fooled around.”

He gave him a lazy smile, gently pushing upwards into his stroking hand to encourage the touch. “An’ ya pleasurin’ yerself…now tha’s somethin’ I’d like tae watch, sometime.”

This time Alan’s blush was due to a sudden attack of shyness, and he lowered his gaze. “Don’t be dirty, Eric.”

The Scotsman winked at him. “Who’s straddlin’ who righ’ now? An yer still fully clothed. That’s no’ verra fair, is it?”

"Considering the situation, I’d say it’s plenty fair," reminded Alan, but he smiled.

Eric sighed and closed his eyes again, purring softly with pleasure as the brunet’s stroking sped up. “Mmm…so when can I see a glimpse o’ tha’ sweet body o’ yers again, love?”

"When I’m ready for you to," murmured Alan without hesitation, "after I’ve had my fill."

"Demanding lad." Eric opened his eyes again to look up at him, his hips smoothly gyrating to amplify the sensations Alan was giving him. "But I can be patient. It’ll be worth it."

Alan smiled again, and he looked down at the treasure of masculinity he was fondling. He applied just a little more pressure to his balls and Eric gasped. “Too much?” wondered the brunet, fearful that he’d hurt him.

Eric shook his head, his brows furrowing. “J-jus’ enough. Ah, sweetheart…”

Alan did it again, squeezing and massaging them as he stroked him off faster. Eric began to pant, his abs flexing and his hands squeezing the pillows tighter. “Unh…Alan!”

It made his stomach do a little flip. The desire to kiss him down there was now overwhelming, and Alan chose not to fight it. He squirmed down the bigger man’s legs and leaned forward, still massaging his balls and keeping a firm grip on his twitching length. He planted a soft kiss on the tip, coating his lips with the salty drip of precum emerging from it. Eric propped himself up on his elbows and groaned, staring down at him as the brunet experimentally began to lick, his hand still moving steadily over the taut flesh.

"Ah…blessed Lugh," growled Eric when Alan gave the tip a suck. "Yer gonna make me come soon, if ya keep tha’ up."

Alan debated whether he wanted to let him do that, or if he should make him hold off until he was inside of him. Deciding he needed just a bit more punishment for putting him through worrying about him for all these months, he held off.

"Not until I say you can."

The expression on that masculine, attractive face in response to that was nearly enough to make him laugh and change his mind. “Seriously?” gasped Eric.

"How long can you hold it, Eric?" teased the brunet. He was thankful that his pants had more give than Eric’s, due to his tendency to choose a looser design. He was throbbing in them and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up without getting his own satisfaction.

"I…c-can try," stammered the Scotsman. He hissed through his teeth as Alan dropped his head and slid his lips over the top of his shaft, slowly taking it in until he could do no more without gagging. "Ah, shite…ya lil’ terror!"

"Hmmm." Alan withdrew to the tip, then sheathed it again, sucking as he went. He knew he wasn’t as good as Eric, but he made up for what he couldn’t take down his throat by stroking the rest with his hand. While he had plenty of practice with giving himself hand-jobs, he wasn’t able to practice orally on himself, and he’d been too embarrassed to try doing it with some phallic-shaped fruit or vegetable.

He could learn this way, though…practice on Eric until he discovered how best to please him, and how to tame his gag reflex. The Scotsman certainly didn’t seem to mind his efforts. His rough groans and desperate panting was proof of that. Alan tried turning his head different ways, stroking his tongue against the ridges around the tip, and different intensities of sucking. Eric’s strong body was trembling helplessly, his vocalizations tense and growling as he pleaded with him between groans.

Mercilessly, Alan continued until Eric was clenching his jaw and breathing like he’d run a marathon. He had to give the man credit; his ability to sustain when he so clearly needed to come was something to be admired.

"Fuck…A-Alan…dunno how long I can keep mah word!"

Alan could feel his balls tightening in his palm, and his cock was twitching steadily. He’d tortured him for long enough. He released the thick shaft from his mouth and he started to straighten back up to straddle him again and tell him he could come now, but before he could do so he got hit right in the face with a spurt of semen—followed quickly by another blast in the left lens of his glasses.

"Unh…ohh," moaned the blond, back arching as he came all over his partner’s surprised face.

He supposed he’d asked for that. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to hold off that long if it had been Eric going down on him. He looked up from Eric’s groin with a dumb expression of shock nonetheless, creamy pale evidence of his partner’s orgasm dripping sluggishly down his face and over his glasses. Eric’s climax tapered off and when he saw what he’d done, he seemed a little horrified.

"Oh bloody hell," gasped the Scotsman. "I’m sorry…dinnae mean tae get ya but…dammit Al…I tried tae warn—"

Alan started to laugh, interrupting his lover’s embarrassed apologies. Eric looked contrite for a few seconds more, before his deep, breathless laughter joined in. Alan removed his glasses after a few moments and he tried to wipe his face off with his hand, inadvertently smearing the mess further.

"I w-was about to tell you…that y-you could come," he managed between giggles. "It’s okay. Th-that was my own fault."

* * *

 

Eric looked around for something to help clean up the mess, and he spotted the box of tissues on the bedside table. He saw some used ones already balled up around it and it occurred to him that his lover must go through a lot of them. Whether they were for tears or situations like this one, he couldn’t say. He snagged a couple of fresh ones from the box and he sat up to wipe the brunet’s face off himself.

"There," he whispered, still breathing heavily from the experience. "Let’s see tha glasses now, sweetheart."

Alan handed them over to him and he watched as he used the second tissue to wipe them off. Eric fit them back over his partner’s face and he balled up the tissues to put them with the others, before caressing Alan’s beloved features with his fingertips.

"I ne’er wanted tae leave, Alan."

The brunet lowered his gaze. “You hadn’t much choice. I don’t blame you…and I had to learn to stand on my own two feet without you. Maybe it was meant to happen.”

Eric nodded and put his arms around him, pulling him closer. “Ye’ve become a fine reaper, Al. I’m proud of ya.”

Alan sighed and drew Eric’s head to his chest, stroking his hair. “It was largely due to your influence.” He kissed his hair and smiled. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

Eric closed his eyes and rubbed Alan’s back, rocking gently back and forth with him. “I promise it’s fer good, this time.”

* * *

 

When Eric recovered, Alan stripped down for him and after exploring one another again with lips, tongues and hands, Eric prepared him with attentive care. He muffled the gasps and groans emitting from the smaller reaper as he slowly fingered him, taking his time so as not to cause him more discomfort than could be helped.

"Easy, love," he murmured between kisses, stretched out beside his naked form. "Try not tae clench up. It’ll get better."

Alan took a deep breath an nodded, hands clutching at Eric’s broad shoulders as the Scotsman gently pumped the invading digits in and out of his body. His breath hitched and he stared up at Eric as if drawing strength from him. Eric smiled tenderly down at him, and he located the most stimulating spot he’d been searching for and stroked it.

"Ahh…ahhh?!" Alan’s back arched, his moan coming out questioning as the sensation zipped through him.

"Steady, Alan," coaxed the blond, twitching with need against his leg as Alan squirmed helplessly. “‘S a’right. Nothin’ tae be alarmed about. Feels good, right?"

"Oh…oh gods," panted Alan. His short-trimmed fingernails dug into Eric’s skin, his breath huffing between his parted lips. "Eric? It f-feels funny…but good…hanh!"

Eric eased up, realizing he might be stimulating it a bit too much. “Shh, nice an’ steady,” he purred, kissing his companion’s flushed face. He kept pumping, stroking the gland in passing each time until the brunet was pleading with him mindlessly to “Put it inside him”. Eric chuckled a bit, refusing to be hurried despite his own nagging desire. 

When he thought Alan was ready for him, he positioned himself between his spread thighs, opting out of propping his legs on his shoulders for fear that it would give him the access to go too deep and hurt him. They could try other positions later, when Alan was a bit more used to it and had more confidence. For now, this position seemed best if he wanted to look him in the face while they coupled.

"Deep breath, sweetheart," he encouraged as he nudged in, and Alan’s eyes widened.

He was just as tight as he suspected—no surprise, since they’d never gone this far before. Alan did as he suggested and when he felt the tightness relax a bit, Eric drove deeper. He shuddered with pleasure, his pulse racing strongly. Alan’s fingers dug into his thighs, his breath catching, and Eric waited again. He stroked the brunet’s slim body soothingly, rubbing his abdomen and one of his outer thighs as he murmured endearments to him. Alan swallowed and looked up at him trustingly, nodding.

"Ah, lover," sighed Eric as he slid in the rest of the way. It was wonderful. His partner fit so perfectly around him, and he closed his eyes to relish it as he waited to begin moving. Alan caressed his chest with one hand and he traced the tattoo encircling his bicep with the other. His breathing rhythm had calmed and the tension had begun to fade from him.

Eric opened his eyes again and he smiled at him. “How’s it feelin’?”

"Good," assured the brunet, biting his lip. "Eric…will you move…please? I know there’s more to it than—uh…oohh!"

Eric obliged him before he even finished making the request, and Alan’s eyes widened, his expression again displaying surprise, wonder and pleasure. The Scotsman was even more careful this time than with any of his previous partners, seeing as Alan was virginal. He pulled back halfway, then drove forward again, only to pull back to the very tip and slide back in to the hilt.

"Oh, Alan."

"Ahh…Eric…more!" Alan was now clutching his shoulders, his pale features alight with pleasure.

Eric did as demanded, withdrawing and then claiming him again, his breath shivering on his lips. Alan cried out, and he knew he’d found that spot again. He began to thrust slowly, his hard length sliding against it each time he entered him. He bowed over him and he supported his weight on his arms so as not to crush him, lowering his head to kiss his moaning lips.

"I cannae tell ya how much I’ve wanted this," groaned the Scotsman between kisses. He began to pump a little harder, drawing soft cries from the smaller man beneath him. "Alan…sweetheart…"

The brunet hugged him around the waist, holding onto him like he was afraid if he let go, Eric might leave him again. The blond paused to take a few deep breaths, kissing his partner’s throat and earlobe as he waited for his excitement to calm a bit.

"Eric," whined Alan in frustration, hips undulating instinctively beneath his. "Y-you stopped!"

"Aye," agreed the Scotsman breathlessly. "Had tae, fer a minute. Yer too damned hot fer yer own good."

He grinned down at him and he gave a sudden, firm thrust that made Alan’s breath catch and re-ignited the flush of passion in his cheeks. “Jus’ cause I take a little breather doesn’t mean I’m finished, sexy.”

He did it again…and again after that. There were no more protests forthcoming from Alan’s lips. Indeed, his breath was reserved for incoherent moans and cries after that. Eric began to take him vigorously, his face strained with the effort of holding back his climax as he strove to give his partner as much pleasure as he could before spending himself. He smiled when Alan tossed his head and curled his toes, and he felt the brunet clenching around his length.

"Mm, tha’s wha’ I wanted," purred the blond in satisfaction as Alan yelled helplessly and came against his stomach. He changed to quick, shallow thrusts that bumped against that sweet spot inside of Alan, drawing out his orgasm and making him spurt even more.

"Oh gods," moaned Alan, clutching at Eric’s broad shoulders desperately. "Hah…unh! Eric!"

Eric bowed his head and hissed, sucking in a few deep, trembling breaths. He stopped thrusting and held himself still within Alan’s tight, clenching heat, growling a little with the pleasure of it. When the climax slowed and stopped, Eric again felt like he could resume, and he caught hold of Alan’s hands as soon as they dropped limply to the mattress and pushed them up over his head, threading his fingers through his and holding him down.

"Cannae get enough of ya," he groaned, resuming his thrusts. He worried a little that the restraint might alarm his companion, but Alan seemed to find it just as exciting as he did. His eyes were wide beneath furrowed brows as he stared up at Eric, his smaller hands squeezing the Scotsman’s and his breath huffing with each pelvic shove. 

"Oh, Eric," moaned Alan, closing his eyes. His body was still trembling in the aftermath of his climax. His legs embraced Eric’s waist again and he rocked beneath him with more confidence, evidently getting a better feel for how reciprocate his lovemaking in such a pinned position.

The Scotsman kept at it until Alan hardened again, and he released his hands so that he could balance his weight with one arm and reach down to stroke him off. His thrusts quickened and deepened with excitement as the brunet’s moans filled the air once more, suggesting he was getting close to another orgasm.

"Aye," panted Eric. "Come fer me again, Alan. Damn, ya feel so good…"

He couldn’t last this time and he knew it. Every thrust brought him closer, and watching the expressions of bliss on his partner’s face only cinched it for him. “Al,” he groaned, body tensing up. “A-Alan…hunh…I…I cannae last much longer…”

Alan was already coming again, the motions of Eric’s squeezing, calloused hand bringing him back to that peak. He shouted and hugged him tight, his breath hot against Eric’s sweating chest as he trembled and spurted between their shifting bodies again.

A deep growl rumbled in the Scotsman’s chest, followed by a tense exclamation of gratification as the rhythmic clenching around his sex brought him over the edge with his companion. “Ahh,” he sighed with relief, eyes fluttering shut. He twitched inside Alan, filling him with his seed. He opened his eyes and gazed down at him, panting for breath and grinning with accomplishment.

"Knew it’d be good," he gasped, "but tha’ was even better than I expected."

He lowered his mouth to Alan’s gasping lips for a kiss. “Did I hurt ye too much, love?”

Alan shook his head, his hair clinging to his perspiring face. “N-no. Only a little bit, in the beginning. It was wonderful, Eric.”

"Mm, I could stay like this all night," purred the blond, resting his forehead against Alan’s shoulder. "But ya prolly wouldn’t appreciate me skewering ye all night long, eh?"

Alan chuckled and ran his fingers through the bigger man’s golden locks. “Um, you actually feel…really good inside of me,” he murmured shyly. “It’s not very uncomfortable with you soft.”

Eric lifted his head and grinned down at him. “Ah, but if I stay in this nice and cozy sheath for too long, I’m sure tae get hard again.”

He kissed him deeply with unhurried sensuality, caressing his tongue with his own before pulling back again. “But we could stay like this fer a while longer, if it’s really a’right wi’ ya.”

Alan caressed his chest and returned his smile, sighing and closing his eyes. “I would like that.”

Eric kissed him again, his heart swelling with love.

* * *

 

-To be continued   


	10. Chapter 10

It was wonderful to be back in England. Eric never would have imagined himself missing this place when he first transferred from his homeland, but now he couldn’t imagine life away from it. Alan helped him train his accent again, so that he wouldn’t have to constantly repeat himself for his British coworkers to understand him. Over time, he got so good at emulating their accent, one could hardly tell he was not born there. When he was alone with Alan, however, he did not need to mask his true accent—and his partner preferred it that way.

He started to learn more about flowers, too. While he wasn’t particularly interested in them himself, Alan had a love for them. Anytime he found a flower that he could not identify, all he needed to do was ask his partner and he would not only get the name of the bloom, but a brief history behind it. On one sunny, spring afternoon he was listening to his partner explain the origins of the bluebell flowers, when an idea occurred to him.

"Move in wi’ me."

Alan paused in his explanation, and he looked at the taller reaper with wide eyes. “P-pardon?”

Eric smiled and stepped closer, admiring the way the soft breeze ruffled his partner’s brown hair. “I’m asking yeh tae move in wi’ me, partner. Yeh already spend most o’ tha time at my place, an’ half yer clothes are stashed in mah closet an’ dresser. I’ve go’ plenty of room fer tha rest of yer things, an’ we can sort out where tae put yer furniture, if ya dun’ want tae get rid of any of it. Move in wi’ me.”

Alan stared at him for a moment as if suspecting a joke, and then he smiled. “Really? Are you sure?”

Eric put his arms around him and drew him close, nodding. “I’m sure. Place gets lonely when yer no’ around. I think th’ apartment misses yeh as much as I do.”

Alan chuckled with amusement. “Buildings can’t miss people.” He put his arms around the taller reaper’s neck. “But if you’re sincere, I would love to move in with you, Eric. I’m not attached to any of my furniture, and it came with the apartment, anyhow. All I’ve got to move are my clothes and some kitchenware, really.”

The Scotsman lowered his head for a kiss, his beard tuft tickling Alan’s skin. “Good. We can get started on moving yer things in tomorrow.”

He didn’t mention the other idea that was on his mind, because it was a bit more frightening than moving in together. Same gender spousal arrangements weren’t unheard of for reapers, but they were quite uncommon. Marriage was generally a thing reserved for male and female couples intending to have children together. Most same gender couples were content to do without the spousal agreement, seeing as there was no practical reason for it. As Eric kissed his partner again, he thought it might be nice to someday take vows with him and share a surname…but there was no rush.

* * *

 

"So the two of you are moving in together?" Grell asked the following day as he and Alan ascended the steps of the Great Library—both of them having collections to turn in.

Alan nodded. “That’s the plan, yes.”

Grell snorted. “It’s about time, I say! You two have been together for well over a year now, and you already act like a married couple!”

Alan smiled at him. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Grell pushed the doors open for them both. “Well of _course_ you haven’t noticed, darling. That’s what makes it so perfect! The most ideal couples never notice how bloody cute they are together, after all.”

The redhead sighed and looked down at his boots as they walked the tiled floors of the library together. “So in love with each other. I envy you, you know. What I would not give for a handsome man to look at me the way your Eric looks at you.”

At once, Alan felt pity for the flamboyant reaper. He reached out and patted his slim shoulder. “You’ll find someone eventually, Miss Sutcliff. I just know it.”

"Evidently not William," sighed Grell, raising his eyes to the chandelier and the encircling levels of vaults. "My cold prince hardly even knows I exist, save for when I agitate him enough to remind him."

Alan grimaced helplessly. It was plain to see that Grell still had his heart set on Spears, but the attractive, raven-haired supervisor clearly did not return his affections. He put up with Grell, certainly. In fact, Sutcliff tended to get away with more than the average Dispatch agent. Still, whatever hidden affection William might harbor for him, it was obvious to Alan that he never intended to allow a romance to blossom.

"Maybe you should start setting your sights elsewhere," suggested the brunet softly. "I think it would be less frustrating, if you did."

Grell brought a gloved hand to his mouth, and he nibbled away a loose thread. “One would think. I know that I’m only hurting myself by entertaining these fantasies of him coming to his senses and sweeping me off my feet. I’m not completely blind. It’s just…he was the first reaper to ever best me. I won’t settle for a man that isn’t a stronger fighter than myself, you see. If he cannot subdue me….”

Grell shrugged and grinned, casting a wink at Alan. “Well, I’m sure you know all about the pleasures of being helplessly pinned down by a gorgeous man, after all.”

A blush suffused Alan’s cheeks. Honestly, Sutcliff’s conversations always veered off into the most lewd places, at times. “I’m afraid that’s private,” he whispered, casting a look around at the other reapers coming and going from the library.

Grell laughed softly and put an arm around him. “Have I embarrassed you again, darling? I’m simply dreadful about that, aren’t I?”

"Sometimes you speak the way a dirty romance novel reads," admitted Alan with a smirk.

Grell laughed at that. “I do spend a lot of time with my nose stuck in romance books. A maiden has to get her pleasure from _somewhere_ , after all!”

Alan chuckled. “I suppose I can’t fault you for that.” He thought of young Ronald Knox, and the way he sometimes noticed him watching William Spears covertly. Luckily, Grell hadn’t noticed it yet. In fact, Alan thought he might be the only one to have picked up on it. Ronald was very good at covering it up, and the boy made it a daily mission to flirt with as many girls as he possibly could.

"So, how are things going with your apprentice?" he asked as they approached the reception desk and handed over their collections. "He seems to have a lot of potential."

"Oh, he does," agreed Grell with a little smirk. "But the ladies distract him so! We can hardly finish a collection without him offering to take some random chit out for tea or lunch. If he could just focus, I am sure he could become one of the most lucrative agents in our division."

He sighed and checked his watch. “In fact, I have a training session with him that I must get to. Hopefully the little terror will arrive on time for it. In addition to his skirt-chasing, he has a bad habit of being late.”

"At least he isn’t getting picked on," muttered Alan, remembering his old academy days with unfortunate clarity. "Isn’t there a dance scheduled for the weekend?"

"Mm, yes." Grell smiled. "In fact, I plan to treat my cute little fledgling to a nice dress suit for the occasion. Don’t say anything, though; he doesn’t know."

Alan smiled. “That’s really kind of you, Grell. He must be growing on you.”

Grell snorted. “His fault for being so wretchedly adorable. Now I know what it’s like to be a Mum.”

Alan laughed softly. “Well, I’m glad this arrangement is working out. I was worried for a while that you’d be so resentful that you’d mistreat him.”

Grell sighed and waved a hand languidly in the air. “I _tried_ to resent him, to be honest. But Ronnie is so bloody endearing, it just would not stick!” He abruptly kissed Alan on the cheek, leaving a red lipstick imprint. “I’d best be off now, darling. Say ‘hello’ to your bold, handsome Scotsman for me!”

Alan impulsively rubbed at the spot to wipe off the lipstick as Grell took off. “I will. Have a good afternoon, Grell.”

* * *

 

"Wow, this place is kinda expensive," observed Ronald a few days later, when Grell took him to a gentlemen’s attire shop. "Senpai, I don’t think I can afford any o’ these."

Grell smiled and winked at him. “You can with your mentor’s support, sweetness. Come on, let’s get you all sorted out for the dance!” He took Ronald’s hand and practically dragged him into the shop with him.

"Wait…what?" sputtered the two-toned reaper. "G-Grell…are ya offering t’ _buy_ one o’ these suits for me?”

"Hmm, think of it more as a loan," explained Grell. "You obviously can’t afford such finery on your meager salary yet, so I’m willing to help you pay for it—but you will have to pay me back over time, understand? We can work out a payment plan after we get your suit, darling boy."

Ronald’s eyes lit up adorably behind his square-framed trainee glasses. “ _Really_? Oh man, I…I dunno what t’ say!” He impulsively hugged the redhead, making Grell stagger a bit. “Thanks, Miss Sutcliff! Nobody’s ever done this for me before…well, ‘cept for my Mum. She bought me my uniform, after all.”

Grell chuckled in spite of himself, holding Ronald at arm’s length. “Well, now you have ‘Mummy Grell’ to help you out. Don’t take advantage of me though, Mustard Seed. I expect you to repay me in full, over time.”

Ronald nodded, his yellow-gold bangs flopping over his eyes. “Yes’m! I promise, you’ll get every shilling back!”

"I’d better." Grell smiled and brushed the younger reaper’s bangs out of his eyes. "Now, let’s see about getting you fitted for your first proper dress suit, shall we?"

* * *

 

Ronald was just getting measured for his suit, when William T. Spears entered the shop. The boy went still, staring at the stately, handsome Dispatch supervisor as he walked in and began to examine the suits on display. He swallowed, feeling his mouth go suddenly dry as that piercing gaze lifted from one of the Italian brand suits to meet his.

"Part your thighs, please," requested the tailor taking his measurements. "I must get your inseam, now.

Ronald felt stupified. He couldn’t move. William’s gaze briefly roved over him, before settling on the redhead seated on the loveseat near the window.

"Young sir," said the tailor, "Please part your legs a bit."

"Oh…uh…right." Ronald did as directed, looking away from William with a blush. How could anyone be that sexy?

"Will!" Greeted Sutcliff as he looked up from the magazine he was reading. "Fancy meeting _you_ here! Have you come to get another suit? You know, I’m quite handy with the measuring tape. No need to wait your turn, darling. I can take your measurements right here if—”

"That won’t be necessary," interrupted William coolly. "Mister Gains already knows my measurements. I am merely here to pick up a suit I had ordered."

Grell pouted. “Such a shame. Taking your measurements would have surely brightened my day, William.”

_~Damn, I’d take his measurements too,~_ thought Ronald, doing his best not to look at the head of his department. _~Even though I’ve got no idea how t’ do it. Okay Ronnie…stop thinking about it. Might as well be reaching for the moon. Spears is your boss and ya can’t compete with Grell. They’ve got a history together, after all.~_

It was all well and good to reason with himself that William was off-limits, but Ronald couldn’t stop himself from imagining the stoic reaper taking the tailor’s place and measuring his body for his custom suit. He visualized William’s gloved hands running over his thighs, reaching up between them to cup his package in a way that most certainly wasn’t professional and…

"Um, I need t’ use the loo," Ronald informed Mister Gains. He was starting to get into an embarrassing state, and the last thing he wanted was for Spears to notice his crotch poking out.

"Very well, then," said the tailor, rolling up his measuring tape. "I have the measurements now. Feel free to make use of the bathroom, young sir. It’s the second door on the left, behind the curtain back there.

"Thanks!" Ronald hurried through said curtain and he locked himself into the bathroom. Leaning back against the door, he sighed and shut his eyes. "Come on, body…don’t do this t’ me. Get a grip!"

But his body wasn’t listening. That delightfully obscene fantasy his mind had conjured up so abruptly kept replaying in his head, and he groaned.

"Guess I’ll have to just take care of this m’self."

* * *

 

"I would not have imagined you to be the sort to pamper your fledgling this way," observed William as he watched Ronald vanish behind the curtain. His gaze went back to Grell. "It seems you’ve become rather taken with him."

Grell shrugged. “He’s a good kid, all things aside. I still rather hate you for saddling me with this responsibility, but Ronnie is a loveable little thing, regardless.”

"And now you have the perfect excuse to play dress-up," said William with a slight smirk.

"Well, he wouldn’t allow me to put him in a gown," pouted Grell, "but he does make quite the entertaining little boy doll, regardless. Will you be chaperoning the dance, dear William?"

"As supervisor of our department, I have little choice," reminded the brunet. "I shall be there from the beginning to the last dance of the night. I suppose you will escort your trainee yourself?"

"Of course!" Grell smiled widely and relaxed in his seat. "And he’ll be positively the most handsome young man at the ball! I shall spare no expense to see to that."

"Very good, then." William nodded cordially and pulled away before Grell could try to embrace him. He walked to the back of the shop and asked its keeper if he had the suit he ordered.

"Of course, Mr. Spears," informed the tailor. "I’ve got it hanging in the back room now. Would you like for me to retrieve it for you?"

"No need," assured William. "I know my way around the shop. I can fetch it myself."

As the tailor bowed in accord, William passed through the curtains and made his way down the hallway leading to the back storage room. He heard a moan from the bathroom as he passed it, and he paused. Another, softer moan followed, and William pressed his ear to the door curiously.

"Mister Knox, are you all right in there?"

"Y-yes!" The boy’s voice sounded faintly panicked. "I’m fine, sir! Thanks!"

With a shrug, William continued on to retrieve his new suit for purchase.

* * *

 

On the night of the dance, both Eric and Alan were recruited to be chaperones for the event. Eric grumbled about it but Alan merely smiled as he adjusted his bolo tie in a finishing touch.

"Oh, it isn’t all that bad," he said to his lover, checking himself over in the full-length, bedroom mirror. "Just think of how awkward the fledglings must feel! I recall my first dance. It was terrible. I knew I was supposed to find a dance partner, but none of the girls wanted anything to do with me, thanks to my bully."

"Hmph…must’ve been before I transferred," muttered Eric. He turned around and lifted his chin. "Alan, could ya help me with this tie? Damned thing doesnae want tae knot properly."

Alan hid a grin and he approached his lover to assist. Poor Eric always had trouble working ties. He hated them, in fact—which was why he always wore his loose whenever possible. “Calm down,” he advised as he completely undid the sloppy knot that the blond had made and reworked it into something more formal. “It’s only one night, Eric.”

The Scotsman grunted. “One night o’ pure hell, splashed wi’ some teenaged hormones.”

Alan chuckled. “You were that age too, once. I’m not so far beyond them, myself.”

"But ya were always older than yer age," protested Eric, putting his arms around him. "Ye’ve always been verra mature, Al."

"My circumstances forced it a bit." Alan finished completing the slipknot, and he tugged the taller reaper’s tie up around his collar. "There. You look so handsome."

Eric grinned and winked down at him. “Thanks tae me partner, maybe.” He bent his head for a lingering kiss. “Now let’s hope tae gods this night’ll end wi’out any fighting.”

* * *

 

Eric swore he’d been recruited into Hell. He watched the boys nervously approach the girls for dances—all save young Knox. The boy with the blond/black hair seemed to have no trouble attracting partners, and he smirked into his spiked punch as he watched Ronald twirl around on the dance floor with yet another young lady.

"Kid’s got tha moves, I’ll give ‘im tha’," he remarked to his partner, leaning over to speak into his ear.

Alan nodded. “He’s quite the charmer, Grell’s apprentice. Just look at how proud Miss Sutcliff is.”

Eric looked and he nearly burst into laughter. Grell was clinging to William’s arm next to the buffet table, and the Dispatch supervisor stood with quiet dignity, having left off trying to shove his amorous companion away. Grell had his head on the taller reaper’s shoulder and he was grinning with delight at his dancing apprentice. William reminded him of a wet cat, with that sour expression on his angular features.

"I dun’ think Spears is havin’ much fun," observed Eric, tilting his drink cup in the brunet’s direction.

Alan sighed and snatched the punch out of his hand for a drink. “When does he ever…” He took a sip of the punch and he coughed, staring up at his taller companion with disbelief. “ _Eric_ , did you put _alcohol_ in this?”

The Scotsman shrugged. “Just a bit of whisky. What’s tha problem?”

"The _problem_ is that these are _students_!” insisted Alan in scandalized tones. “You’ve got no business serving alcohol to underaged—”

"Relax," interrupted Eric with a chuckle. "I only spike mah _own_ drink, Al. Not sae much as a single drop made it in tae tha punch bowl. I promise.”

Alan did relax a bit. “Well, that’s something, at least. Honestly though…is it really so awful that you can’t stand to be at this event without a drink?”

Eric chuckled and pointed out one particularly clumsy youth that stepped on his dance partner’s toes, drawing a yelp of annoyed pain from her. “When I’m reminded of all tha crud I had tae go through as a fledgling? Aye. It’s no’ like I’m gettin’ drunk, love.”

Alan sighed. “Fair enough.” He took another sip of the punch and he grimaced, handing the drink back to his partner. “Ugh…it’s all yours.”

"Thought as much." Eric winked at him and took the cup back. He started to say something else, but then he noticed that Ronald Knox’s wallet fell out of his pants whilst he was dancing. "Here, hold it fer me a minute," he said, handing the drink back to Alan.

Eric crossed the floor and picked up the wallet, only to have his eyes drawn to the photo of a reaper woman in it. He stared with furrowed brows at her image, recognition lighting his eyes.

"No bloody way," he muttered, looking at the young blond twirling away from him with his latest dance partner. "Fuck me…."

* * *

 

Ronald was doing his best to ignore William Spears as he danced the night away. He didn’t even notice his wallet slipping out of his pocket, until Eric Slingby grabbed him by the shoulder and excused them both from the young woman he was dancing with.

"Ow, Eric-senpai…you’re a li’l rough," protested the boy as he stumbled along with Eric.

The Scotsman eased his hold on him and he held up his walled. “Ya dropped this, lad. Sorry tae get rough wi’ ya.” He dragged his fingers through the loose part of his golden hair. “Wha’s yer ma’s name again, Ronnie?”

"Beatrice," answered the younger blond, scratching the back of his head in perplexity. "Why?"

Eric glanced down at the photo once more, before closing the wallet and handing it back to him. “How old are yeh again?”

"Eighteen, sir," answered Ronald. "Somethin’ wrong?"

Eric stared at him blankly for a moment, before looking away. “It’s nothin’. Sorry for tha scare, kid.”

He gave Ronald a smile that seemed a bit forced, and he ruffled his hair. “Go back tae yer dancin’. Keep a better eye on yer wallet, too.”

"Um…okay." Ronald’s gaze flicked to William again, before he turned his attention back to his latest dance partner and pocketed his wallet. "Thanks for picking it up, sir."

* * *

 

"Eric, what in the world—"

Alan got dragged along outside the building into the parking lot, and he dug his heels in to stop his partner from dragging him further. “Eric, I _demand_ to know what’s going on, right now!”

Eric stopped and turned, looking at him with a bewildered expression on his handsome face. “Alan, I…oh fer fuck’s sake, I dinnae even know where tae start!” He combed his fingers through his hair and he huffed in frustration.

Seeing that he was truly disturbed, Alan’s frustration eased up and he reached out to touch the Scotsman’s tensed right shoulder. “What is it, love? Can I…help?”

Eric stopped his compulsive grooming, and he looked at Alan with a pained expression. “Al…I think I might be Knox’s father.”

Alan stared at him, suspecting a joke. “That really isn’t funny, Eric.”

"It’s no’ meant tae be," countered the blond with a sigh. He leaned back against his car, and he dug into his blazer for his clove cigars. "Sweetheart, do ya remember asking me if the name ‘Knox’ rang a bell, back when I was still stuck in Scotland?"

Alan nodded. “Yes.” His eyes widened. “Eric…oh, no…”

Eric sighed and looked at him as he retrieved a cigar from his case. “Aye…I think so. Tha name, tha hometown, tha mother…I saw a picture of her, an’ I remember her. Back before I got transferred tae London Dispatch, I…had an assignment o’er here. There was some demon activity…more than London Dispatch could handle on their own. I got injured an’ sought shelter in Sheffield. There was a reaper lady named Beatrice tha’ took care o’ me. Uh…she brought me tae her home on th’ other side an’…well…one thing led tae another.”

Alan kept staring at him, aghast. “Eric…you slept with her?”

"It was before we ever knew each o’er," excused the taller reaper. "I dinnae think anything would come of it! It was just…a thing. But…Ronald’s eighteen. He’s…he’s go’ mah smile an her hair. Fuck!"

He turned around and slammed his palms over the hood of his car. “She ne’er told me.”

Alan came up behind him and embraced him. “Eric, please calm down. You…you didn’t know. It’s okay. He’s safe, and he’s got a good mentor. Even if she’d told you…even if he really _is_ your son…he’s doing just fine, isn’t he? How different would it have been, otherwise?”

Eric turned around to face him, and his features were plagued with an expression of guilt. “He’d have known his Da…that’s tha difference. Alan…I never knew. I had a son and I ne’er even knew ‘bout him!”

"Shh." Alan kissed him and he stroked his hair. "Calm down. You don’t hold the blame in this, okay? She never let you know. Reaper babies are so rare, too. How _could_ you have known? What’s important is that he’s safe and happy, right?”

Eric put his arms around him and nodded, sighing. “Tha’s one way o’ looking at it, I guess. I jus’….feel so damned terrible. I’d have liked tae know. Do ya think there’s some way I can do a paternity test wi’out tha lad finding out?”

Alan hugged him back, and he shrugged. Maybe. If you have the right connections in the medical community. You…don’t want to tell him?”

Eric shook his head. “No. I’m not ready fer tha’. I jus’ figured it out fer m’self, dammit. I cannae handle th’ questions an’ accusations an’—”  
  
Alan pressed two fingers against his lips, cutting off his tirade. “Hush. You don’t have to tell him now…or ever, if you choose. I won’t say anything, love. Just take some time to think about how you want to handle it. I’ll be at your side, no matter what.”

Eric nodded, returning his embrace and lifting him off his feet a little. “I know this is an awful shock, Al. ‘M sorry.”

The brunet managed a smile. “It’s okay. As you said; it happened before we even met. I’m not angry about it. I…I understand how you must feel.”

Eric huffed a laugh and gave him a squeeze. “Do ya? ‘Cause I dun’ even know how tae feel, right now. I jus’…hope that someday when he finds out, Ronnie can forgive me.”

"You weren’t told," insisted Alan. "How can you possibly be there for a baby you didn’t even know you made? Be kinder to yourself."

The Scotsman laughed humorlessly. “Yer no’ wrong about tha’, but I still feel responsible. Poor kid grew up wi’out any support from me, Al. I jus’…I dunno…feels like I ought tae try an’ be involved, now.”

"And you will be." Alan pulled back to look up at him. He recalled how he’d thought Ronald’s smirk reminded him of Eric, and he could not deny the truth. "I’ll help you. We don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to, but we can still watch over him."

Eric sighed, and he smiled at him. “You’ve got tae be tha most patient, understanding reaper I’ve ever met in my life. Thank yeh, Alan, fer being sae kind an’ caring.”

Alan closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Eric’s cologne. It wasn’t an entirely selfless act on his part; he knew that he would only alienate himself from his partner, if he was not supportive of his situation. It hurt him a bit inside to know that Eric had created a new life with some woman; a thing which he could not do even if he was willing to. He and Eric could never make a little baby together. That was the rub of their relationship. He could never give Eric babies, while a female partner at least had the chance of doing so.

"Eric?"

"Hmm?" The Scotsman rocked him gently in his arms.

"Do you…want a family?"

Eric chuckled. “Already have one, sweetheart. Dispatch is mah family now…an’ so are ya.”

Alan shut his eyes and sighed gratefully. “I love you.”

Eric kissed the crown of his head. “An’ I love yeh too, Alan. My life wouldnae be complete wi’out ya.”

* * *

 

He watched over young Ronald Knox, keeping his interest in the background where the boy would never see it. Eric never got to know the boy’s mother very well, and a part of him wanted to confront her and ask why she’d never told him that he’d gotten her pregnant. All was fair in love and war, though. They’d shared a single night of passion, and Ronald was the result. He imagined she didn’t want to burden him. Whatever the reason for her secrecy, Ronald was a strong, healthy young reaper…and getting the final results of the paternity test did not deter Eric from getting to know him better.

He befriended Ronald, hanging out with him after work, going to bars, watching him pick up girls. He even played the wing-man for him as Ronald matured, quietly laughing at his antics and giving him what little guidance he could provide. Alan was a much better moral compass than himself, though. Eric went to his lover for advice whenever he got stumped, relying on Alan’s innate, patient wisdom to help him guide Ronald through his trials. He watched as Ronald effortlessly seduced girls into his arms, and he never thought much on it until Alan hesitantly offered his opinion one night, several months after Ronald’s graduation from the academy.

"He favors men, you know," said Alan as they changed for bed.

Eric paused in the act of pulling up his pajama bottoms. “Who…Ronnie?”

Alan nodded and glanced sidelong at him, buttoning up his pajama top. “I didn’t want to say anything because I’d hoped you would figure it out for yourself.”

Eric shrugged. “It’s his right tae be attracted tae whoever he has a liking for. I’m jus’ wondering wha’ gave ya th’ notion. He flirts a lo’ wi’ tha girls.”

"It’s a cover," provided Alan. "He doesn’t want others to know where his true interests lie, Eric. The flirtation is a coping mechanism."

Eric grimaced. He’d been very similar himself, but the difference was that he was honestly attracted to both sexes. “Wonder if I ought tae say somethin’ tae th’ lad.”

"I wouldn’t advise it," cautioned Alan. "He’s at an awkward age, Eric. He’s trying to figure out his place in the world. Just let him spread his wings and figure it out, and I’m sure if he needs the help, he’ll come to you himself."

Eric sighed and flopped down on the bed. “I dunno _how_ I’d have handled it if I’d even gotten the chance tae help raise him. I’m still a bit resentful of his Ma fer keeping it from me, but I think I’d have made a lousy role-model.”

Alan climbed into the bed with him, and he laid his head against the blond’s bare chest. He traced patterns on Eric’s stomach as he relaxed, quietly wishing that he could offer him more than a few basic life hacks. “You’ll be fine, Eric…and so will he. Ronald’s a capable young reaper…adaptable. That’s very important in our line of work. It isn’t your fault that you weren’t there for him growing up.”

Eric embraced him loosely and he stroked his back. “I wish I could feel as confident in that as ya seem tae be, sweetheart. I want tae tell him tha truth someday, but what good could come of it? He’s already go’ reason enough tae resent me.”

Alan kissed his chest and sighed. “Then don’t tell him. It’s not pressing that he knows, and you are in a position to keep an eye on him. Maybe sometime in the future the opportunity to speak with him about it will present itself.”

Eric smiled and looked down at the brown head nestled against his chest. “Maybe in a few years, aye. Alan? Thanks. I mean, fer bein’ so understanding an’ all. I was worried ye’d think bad o’ me, when I figured it out an’ told ya.”

Alan lifted his head off Eric’s chest, and he smiled at him. “You were younger then, and we hadn’t met. I can’t hold every romantic encounter you’ve ever had before me against you…and she never really gave you the chance to be involved in his life.”

Eric sighed and stroked his hair. “True, but…well, I cannae really say I wish I’d used protection. She probably didnae know she could conceive any better than I did, an’ if I’d used anything, Ronnie might not be here now. He’s a good kid.”

Alan smiled, relaxing against the bigger reaper. “He is. I’d say you should be proud. It might have been accidental, but you made a fine reaper, in that chance encounter.”

Eric chuckled. “I cannae disagree wi’ tha’. He’s done good fer himself. Maybe I’ll start sending him birthday gifts each year, wi’out a return address. Jus’ ‘till I think it’s a good time tae let him know tha truth.”

Alan nodded and closed his eyes. “I think that would be nice for both of you. Maybe one day you’ll be ready to tell him and when that day comes, I’ll be right here.”

Eric gave him another squeeze, and he reached out to shut off the light. “Have I told ya I love ya t’day, Alan?”

The brunet chuckled. “Not yet.”

"Well, I do." Eric nuzzled his hair affectionately, sighing in the darkness. "I’m grateful tae have yeh as a partner an’ a lover."

Alan snuggled him, smiling once more. “I love you too, Eric.”

* * *

 

-The End


End file.
